#the greatest love of thranduil

[rivendell-poet]

*･༓˚✧❝𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 (𝐋𝐨𝐭𝐑)❞‧͙⁺˚༓˚✧ « scenarios »

○ Aragorn ○ Legolas ○ Frodo ○ Sam ○ Merry ○ Pippin ○ Boromir ○ Faramir ○ Éowyn ○ Éomer ○ Bard ○ Thranduil ○ Tauriel ○ Lindir ○ Haldir ○ Elladan ○ Elrohir ○

No TWs | GN!Reader | Wordcount : 3.3k (each individual around 190~ words) | Read on Ao3

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𝐀𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐧

✧ When you get to Rivendell the first thing you do is rush to Frodo’s side - checking he’s ok and thanking the healers.

✧ The second thing you do is take in the beauty of Rivendell, eyes going wide as you see the home of the elves in all its splendour.

✧ He’s walking with you and showing you Rivendell, eyes lighting up almost as much as yours when you see the sights - except the light in his eyes and the smile on his face come from your happiness.

✧ Taking note of what makes your eyes shine brightest, he begins to tour more specifically with your preferences in mind.

✧ As you turn around to express your love of something, he realises he’s too focused on trying to capture every inch of your beauty - especially while being in awe like that - that he misses the question.

✧ Aragorn hopes he isn’t blushing too much when he asks you to repeat the question, this time quickly answering it to the best of his abilities.

✧ The next room captures your attention, and Aragorn instinctively goes back to watching you and laughing with you before he realises what he’s doing.

✧ It’s then he realises the blush on his face isn’t because of embarrassment - but because he likes you.

𝐋𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐬

✧ Legolas is enjoying his time in Imladris, with one of the greatest things being the company. There is you, of course, and the rest of the Fellowship - but it is also nice to spend some time with fellow elves (who aren’t his subjects).

✧ Or, almost fellow elves, such as the sons of Elrond. He has always been intrigued by them, not just for the heritage, and it’s good to spend time with the two. Eventually, in a conversation with Elrohir, the topic finally comes up.

✧ “What is it like, living with Lúthien’s gift?”

✧ “Gift?” Elrohir looks at the elf, “Most call it a choice. Is there a reason you ask? A… someone you ask for?”

✧ His immediate reaction is to say no, and that he is just curious, but then he thinks harder. Is there someone he would stay on Middle Earth for?

✧ As he thinks, an image of the two of you - bow in your hand and grinning at him, bathed in sunlight - comes into his mind. And his mind subconsciously answers the question. If you would have him, he would answer yes.

✧ The elf stays silent, and Elrohir gives a knowing look, before speaking briefly. Offering some advice, and congratulating Legolas on at least figuring out his feelings.

𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐨

✧ Frodo realised he liked you from just about the second he laid eyes on you - you were unlike anyone he had ever known, and that excited and fascinated him.

✧ He expected the crush to go away, eventually, once the novelty wore off and you were known to him as a friend.

✧ Except it never did. With every new smile he saw from you, every word, every laugh falling from your lips - he slowly became more and more enamoured by you.

✧ It was after yet another night that you’d come round for dinner, it was becoming a regular (and welcome) occurrence that he truly realised he didn’t just have a crush.

✧ Frodo was in love with you.

✧ When he’d finally closed the door, watching as you’d walked away, he could still feel the red on his cheeks - and could see the knowing smile Bilbo gave him when he’d turned around.

✧ Patting him on the back, Bilbo had given the young hobbit words of support and encouragement - a twinkle in his eye as he hinted this love may not be unrequited.

𝐒𝐚𝐦

✧ Sam had seen you in and around the Shire a few times before, stopping briefly to look at you before going back to what he was doing.

✧ At first he’d thought it was just him being observant, until Pippin had been over and pointed out that of all the hobbits in the Shire - he’d only stop to look at you.

✧ He was mortified to realise what he'd been doing, and had thrown himself back into his work with much more vigour. Trying to stop himself from being distracted, again.

✧ It works ok, but while in the Green Dragon Pippin assures him that the comments weren't meant in a bad way, and that they were all glad Sam had 'found someone'.

✧ Sam almost isn't sure what they mean, until he thinks back to all the times he's seen you - the times he's blushed. The very small interactions you two have had, that have then lightened his day.

✧ It's thanks to Pippin's teasing he realises he has a crush on you, and then thanks to Frodo when he can finally interact with you.

𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲

✧ Merry realised he liked you from the second he laid eyes on you.

✧ And not in a silly, young-hobbits-in-love type of crush - but something that reminded him of the story books he'd read as a child.

✧ The ones that said when you met the one for you, you'd feel sparks like Gandalf's fireworks and you'd just know.

✧ He did just know, taking the first opportunity he could to talk to you; talking to you felt even easier than most, as though you were a lifelong friend and not just a stranger.

✧ Every time you make eye-contact, he searches in your eyes for the spark he so clearly feels in his - and when he makes you laugh for the first time he's delighted to see it appear (however briefly).

✧ Each passing day cemented this feeling even more, but he still believes it was love at first sight (for him at least).

𝐏𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧

✧ When the two of you first met, Pippin thought you were an angel (an opinion he still holds, in some regards). The second he realised you were of Middle Earth, he also realised he was blushing like a fool.

✧ He knows the attraction isn't just superficial from the day he meets you, but he also sees it as a crush at the start.

✧ And then he starts to spend time with you.

✧ You make him laugh, he makes you laugh. He makes you smile, you make him smile just by being there.

✧ It's also at this time when he realises that what he feels for you isn't just a crush.

✧ He likes,  no - loves, every part of you. And to call it simply a crush would be an insult to his heart.

𝐁𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐫

✧ Like a lot of the soldiers of the White City, his spirits are high as he watches from Osgiliath, eagerly awaiting the return of the rangers, if only for a little while.

✧ Most of the men are looking forward to the night of celebrations and drinking, although some are more looking forward to seeing their loved ones come home.

✧ Boromir is looking forward to seeing his little brother come home - but he isn’t just looking forward to seeing his little brother. Faramir isn't the only one he dearly misses.

✧ As Captain, he’s in prime position when the rangers come in; immediately identifying the two of you and going over.

✧ He pulls Faramir into a hug before looking at you with a grin, unsure of what to do before you embrace him as well.

✧ Instantly, he hugs back - just as firm and confident as with Faramir’s hug - but inside he can feel his heart almost beating out of his chest.

✧ The grin is still on his face as he comes out of it, and when you begin to talk his heart calms down, although only a little.

✧ It’s only then when he realises his heart isn’t beating fast around you because you’re nervous, but because he loves you.

𝐅𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐫

✧ Faramir knew he liked you from the second he laid eyes on you, even if he was slightly too drunk to realise just how deep it went at the time.

✧ He truly didn’t drunkenly hook-up with people, but he did tend to gravitate towards people he liked. People like you, even when you were in the dark corner. Especially when you were in the dark corner.

✧ And of course, he had kissed you back. The only reason he didn’t try to take it further was because he could smell the alcohol on both of you.

✧ When he had woken up the next morning, he regretted that he had not gotten your name (and the slight hangover).

✧ Then when he saw you, lined up as one of Boromir’s potential betrothed, he could feel his heart do two things.

✧ Skip, at the sight of you again. And drop, at the idea you didn’t love him back.

𝐄𝐨𝐰𝐲𝐧

✧ Staring after Aragorn, Éowyn takes a deep breath, trying to remain calm. From chasing him down, and telling him that she knows looking after the children brings honour (without renown). But she should be allowed to seek honour in other places.

✧ And then she feels a hand rest on her shoulder, calming, as she turns around to see you behind her.

✧ You can see her thought process, and tell her that you aren’t here to override your brother’s - or her king’s - orders. But you are here to give her this.

✧ When you press the sword into Éowyn’s hands, finely polished and gleaming perfectly, she can barely think of the words to thank you before she notices your traditional sword is missing.

✧ Instantly, she realises what you’ve given here and tries to give it back - but you keep it firmly in her hands.

✧ “There are many fine weapons in this armoury. Think of it as my gift to you, for now. A promise that I will be coming back to collect it."

✧ "Besides, it brings me comfort that if orcs get into the caves they shall find a warrior there.”

✧ Taking your hand away from the sword you disappear to follow Aragorn, and Éowyn is left holding it. As she watches the two of you leave together, she realises that she may have fallen in love with the wrong sibling (at least at first).

𝐄𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐫

✧ When orcs are spotted within Rohan's borders, in two separate places no less, Éomer immediately takes action.

✧ It's bad luck you're on the second group of riders sent out, and worse when you haven't arrived back when Éomer does.

✧ He tries to reassure himself that it's simply bad luck, and nothing dangerous has happened, but by the second day his nerves get the better of him.

✧ With Éowyn he sets out to wait next to the gate you'll ride in from - a traditional practice.

✧ While waiting, he takes the time to look around and sees who else waits for the riders. When women there bat their eyes at him he ignores it until he realises something.

✧ Éomer is one of the only men there, and the only one not blood-related to the rider he is waiting for. Almost everyone else here is a parent, a sibling, or a lover.

✧ So where does that leave him?

✧ He feels blush begin to rise on his face as he realises precisely which one he is. Or, more accurately, which one he wishes to be for you.

𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐝

✧ Begrudgingly, Bard watches you leave for the final patrol of your shift before laughing as he sees Tilda’s pout when she looks at you going as well.

✧ Looking up at him, she huffs even more; declaring that it isn’t fair he’s allowed to smile while you’re here and while you're away.

✧ He responds that you’re good company, but he can be happy without you - and that’s a good thing.

✧ Then Tilda looks up at him with a doubtful expression. Announcing that he looks extra happy, and his face turns a bit red like when Bain had that fever one time. Or when Sigrid looks at the neighbour's kid, except she shouldn’t tease her sister about that because it’s ‘feelings’.

✧ As pleased as Bard is that his children are taking his lessons to heart, he’s less pleased about her observations.

✧ Keeping walking, Bard tries to reassure her that that’s not what’s going on with him and you - but internally he’s truly thinking about it.

✧ About the fact you’re the first person to make him smile like that for the first time in… a while.

✧ The fact he always lets his kids go up to you because then he can talk to you, and the fact he talks to you even if the kids aren’t with him.

✧ It’s then Bard realises that, somehow, his children have worked out he likes you before he has.

𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐮𝐢𝐥

✧ Thranduil had barely noticed that the biweekly meetings had become less formal, and more about the two of you spending time together.

✧ He hadn’t noticed that most of the time you spent talking was just about the two of you, and no longer about his son.

✧ The thing that made him notice just how special these meetings became was when, while watching you leave, he could feel his smile.

✧ There was a warmth in him that wasn’t just from the wine, or the fireplace, and instead a warmth because he felt comfortable.

✧ Around you, he could be himself. Not much changed, of course, but something about being near you felt freeing, and as though he was understood.

✧ A feeling he had not felt in a long time, but a feeling he nonetheless welcomed - especially when it was you that warmed his heart.

𝐓𝐚𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐥

✧ Both of you had managed to get into the royal guard - you getting into the king’s guard, while she began to work with the prince.

✧ It was while she was taking a break, eating in one of the soldier’s halls, when Alinar (a fellow guard) had come up to her with a grin. “So, you and them, right?”

✧ Trying not to sigh, Tauriel gave a quick answer that no, she was not interested in the prince before Alinar began to laugh. Explaining he hadn’t been teasing about her and Legolas, but her and you.

✧ “Anyone with eyes can see you look at them like they’ve got a fourth elven ring, Tauriel. You’re really not subtle.”

✧ She continues to deny, swatting him away, although this time it’s more on principle. Not because she doesn’t like you.

✧ Because… she does look at you that way. You are magnificent, and wondrous, and she does want to be more than your friend.

✧ As you walk into the hall, you look over to the empty space besides her and immediately come over - and she wonders if she normally blushes this much when you smile at her.

𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐫

✧ Staring at the new poems he’s written, Lindir wonders to himself when his inspiration went from nature and the Valar to… love.

✧ He can still recognise the work as his own, the same metaphors and adoration for his subjects, but he never considered writing romance. Or writing about someone romantically - because he knows that all his works have a muse.

✧ Re-reading the lines over, he tries to imagine the different elves of Imladris fitting into this prose but none of them do.

✧ Deciding to leave it for later, Lindir takes the scrolls and keeps them with him - resolved in going to the library.

✧ On his way there, you cross paths with him - immediately smiling and asking how his day was.

✧ It’s there, looking ethereal against the backdrop of Imladris and roses, that Lindir realises the subject of his new writings.

✧ You are his new muse.

𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐫

✧ Haldir had felt a spark from the first moment you had interacted, your bow drawn - placed in front of your allies and standing as though it would need a thousand warriors to fell you.

✧ These feelings hadn’t even gone away as you let the arrow fly, only afterwards realising he’s not a threat and batting it out of the air.

✧ When you start to apologise he easily stops you, stating that it’s a relief that the Fellowship is travelling with a skilled warrior like yourself.

✧ Watching you go to the Lady Galadriel, he tries to untangle what he’s feeling for you. Is it simply admiration? Or is it something more?

✧ Seeing you alone and clearly wanting to move, he approaches you after the meeting - offering to show you around Lothlórien.

✧ It’s for a somewhat selfish motive, as he wants to try and realise what his feelings are.

✧ And, as his heart seems to lift when you look around and finally seem happy, he understands what his heart wants.

𝐄𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐧

✧ It’s the day after their birthday, finally in their first century, when Elrohir wakes his brother up by poking him.

✧ Elladan is still sleepy, but he’s aware enough to ask what his twin thinks he’s doing.

✧ “I want to know why you didn’t confess, brother dearest.”

✧ The sing-song voice is annoying, but Elladan still gives the question some thought. Confess? About what? Or confess to someone?

✧ Seeing his brother clearly isn’t going to get it, Elrohir lets out a sigh before directly name-dropping you. He’s instantly rewarded with seeing a heavy blush, before poorly spluttered denial about you simply being a friend.

✧ Looking directly into Elladan’s eyes, he speaks again. “Brother, I have watched the two of you dance around each other for almost a century. Sometimes I think I’m the one suffering because of your love. You could at least acknowledge your feelings to yourself.”

✧ He can still see the blush on Elladan’s face, obvious against his hair. But he can also see acceptance and realisation in his brother's eyes. The realisation that he wants you as something more than a friend.

✧ “Took you long enough.”

𝐄𝐥𝐫𝐨𝐡𝐢𝐫

✧ Elrohir was never sure if he believed in love at first sight. It was never something discussed among the elves, where feelings tended to develop over years of emotional connection. But it also seemed like a real thing to mortals - and not just in the tales of old.

✧ As a son of Elrond, where did that leave him? Would his feelings come after decades with a lover, or from a glance across the forest?

✧ And then you arrived.

✧ Instantly, something skipped in his heart - and he felt almost exactly what he’d always thought true love would feel like.

✧ But it wasn’t quite the blazing fire that some of the tomes described, more like a spark.

✧ Then he met you again, desperately trying to do the best you could to keep your city safe. And then again in Gondor’s war council, fearlessly pledging your allegiance to the new king and winning over others with honeyed words and promises.

✧ It was then when his heart was set on you.

✧ So, not quite love at first sight, it had taken a little more time for him to be completely sure.

✧ Yet he was still completely enamoured by you, at the latest, by at the end of your third meeting.

Hope you enjoyed! So sorry this is late, I had it completed and then forgot to post it - was just sitting in my drafts. Soo... yeah, I am very sorry about that. Thank you again for your support! Requests here.

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[sachiko6243]

The Kings plaything - Part 1/2

Summary: After the dwarves have been captured, Thranduil decides to have a little fun with his wife, fulfilling his need to show of his greatest possesion.

Word count: 9223

Warnings: smut with plot, public fingering, exhibitionism, possessive Thranduil, Dom! Thranduil, sub! reader, slight hurt and angst because of something Thorin said, Minors DNI! This contains adult content

Pov Legolas:

The guards and I had captured the dwarfs that were mindlessly roaming through our lands. Right now, we had stripped them of their weapons and escorted them through the woods. Right before the big bridge that led towards the only door into Mirkwood, I stopped the parade, turning to look at the dwarves:

“You are now going to be brought in front of the king and his queen. Let me offer you some advice as to how to act in his presence. You bow when greeting him. You shall not speak unless asked to. Nor do you insult him or her majesty. And most importantly, don’t stare at her majesty.” I rattled down the points, but I was interrupted by the tallest dwarf, they addressed as their king: “Do not worry, none of us would want to see that disgusting elven pack of you anyway!”

Before I could even react, one of my guards already forced him to his knees, a blade against his throat. That seemed to enrage the others, a slight turmoil breaking out. I waited until my guards settled it, before I spoke again: “Careful of your words dwarf. She is the kings most precious possession. You do not want to anger him, by looking at her or insulting her even.”

One dwarf pressed himself through the ranks, until he stood right in front of me. He wasn’t reaching much above my waist and I had to suppress the instinct of kneeling down like I would do with a kid. “Why are we not to look at her?” He asked, nothing but curiosity filling his big brown eyes. I suppressed a laugh, still a small sly smile crossed my lips. “Things are run differently here. You will see for yourself.”

Then I just turned, not waiting for the dwarves to follow me. I knew my guards would simply force them to.

Pov Elanore:

I was sitting next to Thranduils throne beneath his feet on my pillow. It was my usual place between his legs, leaning against one of his thighs and relishing in his soft touches while covered in his cloak. Ever since I had married him some decades ago, we had slowly dipped more into showing our relationship openly. Knowing that the elves were a race loving their routines, the king openly showing his affection caused some stir. Especially, when that affection was interlaced with our power play.

But after a while the people had gotten used to it, even smiling a bit, when he softened around me. It wasn’t often for the king to show his softer side openly, but when he did, he usually did it for me. Legolas once thanked me, that I had brought his father out of his shell. Even though he did not quite understand our relationship, he accepted me as his father’s new wife, soon becoming my partner in crime when it came to wreaking havoc.

I never wanted to replace his mother and I told him so. Legolas didn’t seem to mind either way, soon starting to teasingly call me naneth and over time the name got stuck.  

A guard racing down the hall and stopping in front of us breathless, made me turn my head to look at him. He bowed deeply, his eyes quickly washing over my face, before he looked at the floor in front of him. It was common for the guards and common people to not look at me and after I had pressed Thranduil deeply on the matter, he had admitted to make it a general rule not to stare at me. His harsh demeanor the earlier centuries still sitting deeply, that most elves took it literally and refused to look at me. The only exceptions being Legolas and Tauriel.

“My king.” The guard started. “Your son and some guards have captured a group of 13 dwarves wandering our forest. They are now on their way to be brought in front of you.”

“Is that so?” Thranduil cued, caressing my hair with a soft growl in his voice. “How long are they going to take until their arrival?”

“Not long, my king. They have already made it to the gate.” The guard answered. Thranduil raised an eyebrow. “Thank you. You can leave now.” Waving the guard off, he looked down on me. “It looks like we are about to have guests, little ithil.” Then he opened his legs. “Join me on the throne. A queen must rule besides her king.”

Quickly getting up from my place, I sorted my dress to make it look more presentable. It was made out of thin silk, a soft blue touch to it. During the time I was staying in Mirkwood, I only wore my inside clothes, that Thranduil himself very carefully picked. The dresses he picked for me to wear were far from hiding my body. Rather the opposite. Their light and see through fabric accentuating my curves, doing nothing in hiding my breasts or core from other peoples eyes.

“I am not wearing anything appropriate.” I argued, trying my best to ruffle the dress to cover the dark circles of my nipples that clearly shone through the silk. “Nonsense, meleth. You are wearing just the right dress.” Thranduil said, stopping my hands and smoothing the fabric over my breasts. His soft touches to my nipple made me sigh in pleasure and he smiled. “You are my queen. Mine to protect and cherish. Whenever I am at your side, the world shall see what a beauty lies beneath those fabrics.”

Then he fidgeted with his pants, tying them lose and signaling me to sit on his lap. My eyes widened, when I saw him freeing his cock, that was already leaking precum. “No…” I whispered, but he just pulled me towards him. Simply spreading my legs, he pulled me on top of him so that I was straddling his lap, my back towards him. Beneath my heat, I could feel his cock stroking through my folds. “You are always so wet for me, melethril.” He groaned, taking my shoulder and pushing me down on his cock.

I yelped in surprise and the slight pain the stretch brought with it. But Thranduil didn’t react to it. He simple sorted my feet to dangle besides his thighs, so that I now had no leverage of pushing me up from the throne. “You will stay right here and warm my cock, you understand?” He growled into my ear, biting the skin of my neck right beneath it.

“Yes, my king.” I whispered, leaning back onto his chest. My actions made him chuckle slightly. “You are such a good little girl for me. All it takes is my cock inside of you and you are already forgetting your worries.”

Sorting the dress between my legs, he made sure the two cut outs were delicately laid out to show my legs. Reaching up to my hips and slightly my waist the fabric closed again, just the edges of my hipbones peaking through. A dark blue leather belt securing the dress around my waist and keeping the fabric tight around my chest to not only show my hard nipples through it, but also prevent my breasts from falling out of my cleavage.

What I did not expect was Thranduil sneaking his right hand beneath the fabric of my legs, putting his fingers on my clit. With slow movements, he collected some of my slick that had run out of my core, spreading it over his fingers and my pearl. I couldn’t help myself but moan out his name. “Yes, my little petal. Let them hear you.” Thranduil whispered cockily in my ear and I clasped a hand in front of my mouth, which he quickly took away again. “Oh no, my sweet darling. You are my queen. You do not hide.”

“But you cant just…” My argument was shut down by another moan rolling off my lips, this time a bit quieter, but still clearly hearable for elven ears. “I can and I will.” Thranduil retorted. “I am the king. I can do with my plaything whatever I want and whenever I want it. Not even you will keep me from it.”

I wanted to say something, but the faint thrumming of several pairs of feet made me bite my tongue, trying my best to keep my face straight even though Thranduil had not stopped his soft touches on my core. He was not moving inside of me and thanked the spirits for it, as I would not have been able to keep quiet otherwise. I knew it was obvious for everyone what was happening on the kings throne, but none of the guards reacted openly, even though I thought to have seen some smirks quickly cross their faces.

My dress didn’t do much to hide my growing arousal, my nipples hard and stiff against the silk, Thranduils rings still glittering through the fabric between my legs. And to my dismay, he brushed his free hand over my breasts, making my head roll back onto his shoulder. “That’s it, gilgalad. Feel me.” He cued into my ear, kissing my neck and my cheek. “I will make you come and you will let me, understand?”

“Yes, my king.” I yelped out, closing my eyes at the tingly feeling, that started to slowly build inside of me. With another flick of his fingers, he made me twitch around his cock, growling slightly. “Just like that, darling.” Then his attention shifted from me towards the dwarves that stomped through the halls. Even though they were almost half the size of the elves, their steps were loud and unflattering to the ear, making me shiver and clench my jaw at the interruption.

Thranduil of course noticed, kissing my ear. “They should have taken of their shoes. But then again, I can just make them stop walking. The smell on the other hand I cant control.” I chuckled at his words, my shaking body causing his cock to hit my sweet spot deep inside of me. I yelped, biting my tongue. The hot feeling inside of my body suddenly becoming more prominent.

“Adar.” Legolas voice ripped me out of my fogged up brain and I looked at him. A smile crept on his lips, as he shamelessly stared between my legs. I tried to close them, but Thranduil kept me in place with a slight slap on my clit. I hissed out, clenching around his cock in revenge. But unlike me, the king did not react besides a slight tilt of the head.

“Legolas.” He greeted his son, shuffling a bit on this throne to look at the group in front of us properly. “I see you have brought guests.”

“They were wandering around in the forest. We saved them from being killed by spiders.” Legolas explained, still not taking his eyes away from me. He knew it was a dangerous game to play, but being the son of Thranduil he obviously grew up to be as cocky. His father did also notice his staring, raising an eyebrow. “Something else, you want to add?”

Just like his father, Legolas tilted his head the same way. “Nothing of important matter.” A sly grin on his lips, he leaned against a pillar behind him. Thranduil just scoffed, slightly speeding up the movements of his fingers. He turned his attention towards the dwarves and I could feel him suck in a deep breath.

“Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór king under the mountain.” He greeted the tallest dwarf, who immediately puffed his chest, looking him straight in the eyes. “King Thranduil.” Came the short answer, a suppressed anger in the dwarfs voice. Thranduil did not openly react to it, just letting his left hand delicately brush over my nipples again. Taking the left one between his fingers, he tugged on it, making me involuntarily moan out.

“Tell me dwarf. What is the matter of your visit?” He asked, not even caring to look at the other man, studying my face as it contorted in pleasure. The answer that followed would have cost the dwarf his head, would it not have been for me to sit on Thranduils lap: “We came to seek aid, because unlike you, we have much more important things to do than pleasure a little mistress.”

Immediately two guards had the dwarf on his knees, dragging him closer to the throne, while the others aimed their weapons at the group. “Watch your mouth, scum. This is the queen you are talking about.” One guard growled, harshly tilting Thorins head back, so he was forced to look at the king. Thranduil just smiled one of his arrogant but angry smiles: “What would your people know of pleasuring a woman? Clearly there is not much desirable about your kin.”

And while he was reprimanding the dwarf in front of him, he once again sped up his finger play on my core. The other hand now openly gripping my breasts, tugging on my nipples, until I couldn’t help myself but become a moaning and shivering mess on his lap. The people in front of me faded out of my brain, my focus only on the kings touches and his cock sheathed deep inside of me.

Warm desire, syrupy and all-consuming, filled my stomach. Lust clouding my thoughts. He made it difficult for me to do more than groan, desperate for his touch, as the anxiety I had felt dissipated with each swipe of his fingers. I didn’t care where I was and who was all watching me slowly but surely come undone in the king’s lap. My mind was way too fogged up with the tingly feeling that started to spread from my center towards every string in my body.

I closed my eyes, my head lulling back onto Thranduils shoulders, nails gripping his arm. “Oh god, please. This feels so good.” I moaned, my voice slurred and shaky. The only thing I could focus on was the searing warmth between my legs. Time seemed to still as everything but this, everything but being filled to the brim, ceased to exist. I was tumbling closer to the edge, as my cries were reduced to nothing more than his name. Thranduil didn’t seem to mind one bit either, every cry that left my lips spurring him on further.

“I got you.” Thranduil promised, pressing me impossibly closer to his chest. He pushed me higher and higher, not caring about anything else than my pleasure. Forcing my head back to look at him, I gasped at the sudden possessiveness that overruled everything in him. I could see it in his eyes. They were dark and blown with lust, trained on my face, taking in every twitch of my expression, feeding his arrogance with it.

And then it happened. I barreled over the edge, vision turning black at the edges and lips parting. Thranduils mouth met mine, swallowing my cries of pleasure, noises he knew would still be ringing undeniably loud through the halls. His actions drew a gasp from my lips, the warmth of my orgasm searing through me from within as I clenched around his cock. That had him nipping at my bottom lip in a warning, though a lazy grin betrayed him. “Watch it, nin iell.” He teased. “You don’t want to end it that quickly do you?”

“No!” I yelped, tugging his hand away from my center as I could feel the overstimulation turning unbearable. “Good girl.” Thranduil growled behind me. “Because you take what I give you, like the good little slut you are, isn’t that right?”

“Yes, my king.” My voice was shaky, barely above a whisper and he took it as a sign to let go of me. Just holding me at my hips, he turned to look at the kneeling dwarf before him. “Excuse me. What was it that you wanted?” The sheer arrogance, that laced his words was filling the air, dripping onto the floor, and poisoning everything it touches. Thorin took a deep breath, clearly biting down the words he wanted to say. “Aid, my king.” He repeated between gritted teeth, shaking the hands of the elven guards from his shoulder and standing back up.

Thranduil leaned himself to the side, gently resting his chin on his fingers, as he watched the dwarves. “Some may imagine that noble quest is at hand. A quest to reclaim a homeland and slay a dragon. I myself suspect a more prosaic motive. Attempted burglary, or something of that ilk.”

Thorin did not say anything, but his lips twitched slightly, obviously not going unnoticed by my husbands eyes. Thranduil, tapped my hip, before he simply heaved me from his lap, making me stand in front of him as a shield. After he had sorted himself, he stepped down the stairs, while I took my seat in his throne, cuddling into his warm cloak, watching the interrogation unfold in front or my eyes.

Thranduil stopped besides Thorin, leaning down on his eye level. “You have found a way in. You seek that which would bestow upon you. The right to rule. The kings jewel. The Arkenstone” His words made Thorin look aside, while Thranduil slowly stepped back, stopping in front of me, his eyes still fixated on Thorin. Keeping on talking, he slowly entangled the plan of the dwarves. “It is precious to you beyond measure. I understand that.” Looking at me with a smile.

“There are gems in the mountain, that I too desire. White gems of pure starlight. I offer you my help.” Thranduil bowed his head. That made Thorin chuckle: “I am listening.” Immediately my husband stone changed, growing darker, a slight threat in his voice: “I will let you go. If you but return what is mine.”

Thorin turned, walking to the edge of the platform. “A favor for a favor.” And I could hear he did not trust one thing Thranduil was saying.

“You have my word.” My husband pressed on. “One king to another.”

“I would not trust Thranduil the great king to honor his word should the end of all days be upon us.” Thorin turned around, pointing a finger at my husband, before he started yelling again. “You lack all honor. I have seen how you treat your friends. We came to you once. Starving, Homeless. Seeking your help. But you turned your back. You turned away form the suffering of my people in the inferno that destroyed us. Imrid amrâd ursul!”

I gasped, as I heard Thorin wish a fiery death upon my husband. Jumping from my seat, I was about to yell at him, but Thranduil raised his hand, my light elven feet clearly too loud for his ears. Taking a step towards Thorin, he bent down once again. “Do not speak to me about dragon fire. I know its wrath and ruin.” Knowing what he was about to do, I balled a fist, gripping tightly at his cloak, when I watched him reveal his scar. I could only see the outer edges that covered his chin.

“I have faced the great serpents of the north.” Thranduil pulled back, stepping closer to me. His whole demeanor changed. Was it before slightly arrogant but still willing to help. It was now hard and hateful. Something he rarely let me see. Still keeping his voice in check, he walked towards the stairs, giving me an apologetic look before turning back to Thorin. “I warned your grandfather of what his greed would summon. But he would not listen.”

Thranduil slowly walked up the steps and I shuffled to stand up, but he just signaled me to stay seated. Taking his stand next to me, hands clasped behind his back. “You are just like him.” Then he waved his arms. The guards immediately jumping to action, grabbing the dwarves. “Stay here if you will and rot. A hundred years is a mere blink in the life of an elf. I am patient. I can wait.”

The guards were about to drag the dwarves of, when I rose from my seat. “Wait.” All action stopped, the dwarves looking at me with wide eyes. Slowly, I made my way down the stairs, stopping in front of Thorin. In comparison to Thranduil he looked tiny, but when I stood next to him, he reached up to my eyes. Looking me straight in the eyes, he challenged me by tilting his head. “Look at that. Thranduils little pet, decides to come to our aid. We do not need your help, woman.” He spat directly in front of me, missing my feet by mere inches.

“Careful of your words, dwarf. I am currently the only one between you and my husbands wrath.” I smiled, mimicking my husband as good as possible. It did not seem to help anything, as Thorin just chuckled. “Are you sure you are not a dwarf yourself? You barely outgrew me.”

“I am an elf.” I said, clenching my jaw. “And only a fool would underestimate his opponent that greatly. Are you perhaps a fool, dwarf?”

“I am no fool!” He yelled out and I couldn’t help but chuckle: “Oh my apologies. Your latest actions must have misled me.” Sighing I stepped around him, taking a closer look at the rest of the group. “You really should take my husbands offer. A small chest of white stones in exchange of an army. That is a small prize to pay, considering the wealth of that mountain.” The rest of the dwarves had agreeing looks on their faces, but none of them dared to speak up against their leader.

“Why are you so set on getting those stones? Is you wardrobe not full enough?” Thorin gritted out, the hate still very prominent in his face. I waved him off. “Ah, I do not care about jewels…”

“Your clothes speak different, woman.” He spat out, interrupting me. Slowly I was getting angrier at his antics, twirling around on my heels. But Thorin wasn’t finished making fun of me: “You walk around this realm. Clothed in nothing more than what can be called an excuse of clothing. A tease to everyone’s eyes and yet, your king enables it by ordering everybody to shy away their gaze. And still, everyone is able to see your form, covered in gemstones from head to toe and you dare to claim not to care about jewels? I bet you even have them stuck up your womanhood. That’s how greedy you are for them!”

“Take his head!” Thranduils voice thundered through the halls. His words making everyone gasp out in fear, the guards holding him, now forcing him down, a blade on his throat, ready to cut it at my command. I just raised my hand to stop them. “I do not need to answer your foul accusations, dwarf. But if you may know, those stones and dresses are a gift of my husband. I wear them, to please his eye and only his. As for his orders, I have asked him to at least loosen the punishments, and for our people he has. But you are an outsider. Clearly not able to respect a woman, so why should you be allowed to set eye on her?” Stepping closer to him, I looked him deep into the eyes, before carrying on: “And for those white stones. They were an heirloom of his late wife. They hold great worth to him.”

Thorins lips contorted into a wicked grin. “An heirloom of his late wife. Look at that. The second one defending her husband. To blind to see, he will never love her the way he did with his first. Tell me how does it feel to always be second? To always be reminded of the woman he lost? The mother of his son?” That’s when it snapped in me.

I slapped him across the face, my eyes squinted in anger and I had to physically hold back my voice to not yell at him: “I have given you another chance. Offered you a way out. And yet you stand here, still spitting on the help we offer. Spitting on Legolas mother. There is no competition between us. I know he loved her with all his heart and there is still love in there for her, but that does not dull his love for me. I can see that you are bitter. Too bitter to see the good around you. Your people will die because of your wrathful greed. You lead them into death by dragon fire just because you are to arrogant to accept help. I might not have met many dwarves, but you, Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, king under the mountain are clearly the most arrogant and hateful one.”

Then I looked at the guards. “Finish my husbands order. Take them to the dungeons. Let them rot.” Turning on my heels again, I made my way away from the throne. One the one hand to give my mind peace and to hid the tears that were about to form in my eyes. Thorins words had hit dead center. I knew I should not doubt Thranduils love for me, but still. A part of me, was contemplating whether he was still hanging on his late wife or not. I did not really look where I was going, letting my feet carry me through the kingdom halls. The tears had now pressed themselves to the surface, rolling down my cheeks in big paths and making my vision blurry.

When I stopped, I realized I was in my old chambers. The one I had moved into centuries ago, when I stumbled into Mirkwood by accident. Originally, I was an elf of Imraldis. Elronds cousin to be exact, but I wanted to see the world before I was to marry. My path bringing me into the woods of Mirkwood. What I did not know, was the severity of the spiders. Underestimating the danger, I soon found myself surrounded by five of them, a venomous bit in my left shoulder. I must have passed out, because the next thing I remembered was Legolas and another elf leaning over me and caring for my wound.

After I had healed, I was brought before the king. He offered me shelter and I had taken his offer gladly. Not knowing who I was, I simply took a role as a soldier of Mirkwood, going on patrol with Legolas to keep the borders safe. It took several years, before Elrond had figured out where I went. With the cause to bring me back, he stormed into the halls, demanding to know why the king would let his cousin do such a dangerous job. Thranduil not knowing let to a big fight between the normally very close elves. And after I had refused to go home with Elrond, I was taken from my patrol and sorted to do the more strategic part of military tasks. My new role forcing me to work closer with the king and slowly we became friends. That friendship turned into love and Thranduil started to court me until we finally got married.

I was too caught up with my tears and the memories streaming into my brain, that I did not hear the footsteps approaching me from behind. So, when a hand touched me, I whirled around ready to fight. Btu strong arms held me close, the strong smell of pine, red berries and a hint of frozen mint entangling me, announcing the person holding me as my husband. “Shhh don’t cry, meleth. Please. There is no need…”

“No need?” I yelled, tripping over my own words. “He read my like a book just by looking at me. Every word of his is true!”

“Not all of them.” Thranduil calmly stated. It made me reel out in wicked laughter, the tears streaming down my red cheeks before dropping onto my chest. “Oh spare me. I know you love your late wife. You always had and you always will. I am merely a distraction for you, one you grew to love the image of rather than the truth.”

“Meleth…” He started, but I just stepped out of his hold. “No, Thranduil. Don’t call me that ever again.” My words visibly made him angry, but he held back, letting me speak my mind: “We have lived a lie. A dream. Me too blind to see and you to torn by your feelings to understand the truth. You long for your late wife everyday. That’s why you keep distracting yourself with dressing me up, so that you don’t have to look me in the eye and see I am not her. And I let you do it. To stupid to see the poison it brought to my body, believing it was just your way of loving me.”

“That’s what you think?” His voice was quiet. A slight tremble to it.

“I know it is.” I simply answered, not daring to look at him.

“So, you want this to end? Just because a bitter dwarf told you to?” He asked, angrily taking of his crown and throwing it against the wall. It splattered into thousands of tiny pieces, scattering around the floor. “That’s how much I love you. I would give up all of this, to be with you. Why don’t you see that?” He started to take of his jewels, throwing them against the wall as well. And with every piece of stone that shattered, a piece of my heart broke, until I couldn’t help myself but sink to my knees.

He was by my side immediately. “Listen to me, bereth. As it might be true, that I deeply loved my wife and that I still hold her very dearly. It means nothing compared to you. She is the mother of my child. You are the light of my life. I love you with all my heart and I want to spent eternity with you. Don’t listen to the words of that dwarf, as he knows nothing about love.”

I was still doubtful. The words of Thorin still present in my ears. “You just say that to keep me as your wife.”

Thranduil rose back to his feet, now angrily pacing through the room. “If its that what you want, we shall separate. I cannot divorce you because of our social standing. But I shall leave you be. You will be cared for and every wish shall be fulfilled, but I will never bother you again.” He forced his hands through his hair, making it all messed up, before he looked at me again: “I do not say things lightly and you know that. I have lived thousands of years to see people fall in and out of love. And if you are… Then so shall it be.”

There he was again. The cold king I had met centuries ago. The stiff shell of what he once was, hiding behind power and coldness. It broke my heart seeing him like that and the pull I felt inside of me, made me realize how wrong I was about him. About us. Before he could turn to leave, I sprung to my feet, grabbing his hand. “I am sorry.”

He stilled in his movements, tilting his head to look at me, his gaze harsh and unmoving. “I am sorry.” I repeated. “I was not thinking clearly… Thorins words… They were so hard, so… real. It made my mind underestimate your love for me. Please forgive me, herven. I… I always fear you will leave me one day. Realizing it meant nothing for you. And when he said that… It all became so real, so true. I could not bear the thought of you leaving me, so I fled. Making myself believe that if I were the one to decide, it would not be so harsh on my mind.”

A soft smile crept up his lips, before he took me in a long and warm embrace, wrapping his cloak around us both. “Oh, you stupid little girl. Why did you not tell me about your fears? I would have done more to show you otherwise.”

“Don’t call me a little girl.” I grumbled against his chest, hitting him with my fist. That only caused him to laugh out loud. “But you are. Merely overtaking dwarfs by half a head. Just a little more than a decade older than my son.”

“That is only shining a bad light upon you. Grooming an elleth that is the age of your child. You should be arrested for sacrilegious acts.” I teased, slowly gaining my confidence back. I looked up, only to be met with Thranduils love sick blue eyes watching me intently. At my words he raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? I believe you should stop me then. Or do you perhaps relish in the way I am corrupting you?”

I was speechless. My mouth opening and closing without the words coming out. My brain was mushy, melting under his strong gaze. That only seemed to spur him on even more. “Are you falling out of words, pîn iell?” Letting his hands slowly graze down my body until they reached my thighs, he lifted me up. Out of instinct I wrapped my legs around his waist, feeling the bulge of his pants pressing against my core. His expression turned smug, when he saw my nipples again peaking through the thin fabric. “You don’t have to say it. Your body speaks enough.”

With that he carried me out of the room, but we didn’t get far, as he crashed us into the next wall, his lips feverish on mine. I sighed deeply, when I felt him press against me as desperate as I was. Letting my hands wander through his hair, I pulled on the strands that normally were very orderly sorted on his head. But now I had turned them into a mess. “Thranduil…” I moaned, pressing myself even closer to him.

“I got you, meleth. I am here. You are safe.” He groaned against my lips.

“Bed.” I breathed out and he chuckled. “Which one? Ours or just any bed?”

“I hate you.” I said, leaning my face against his chest to hide the blush creeping onto my cheeks. He took my chin into his hand, softly turning it, so that I had to look him into the eyes. His blue orbs were burning with desire and lust, making me speechless. “I am the king. I own every bed in this realm. So, if you should ever desire something else than ours, you shall have it. Besides. I would not mind fucking you on any bed or surface. By Valar, I would even fuck you in front all of my people to show how much I love you.”

“I figured.” I retorted, cockily. “What even was that back in the throne room? I know you are a possessive man, but that was something new. Even for you.” He smirked, tilting his head. “How do you thing I have managed to stay sane over all those years? A creature living this long needs to be creative to make life worth living.”

“Mhm. Sure. And now what's the truth?” I asked, not falling for his sly answer. “I was just incredible horny for my wife.” He whispered into my ear, causing goosebumps to erupt on my skin. “So horny, that you would bring me to an orgasm in front of our guests?” I breathed, holding onto his shoulders. “Yes.” Was all he said, before he pressed his lips onto mine once again.

A scattering sound made us flinch apart, only to see a young servant standing in the middle of the hall, a load of books spread to his feet. “My king, my queen.” He bowed deeply, before he sunk to his knees to grab the books. “I am so sorry for interrupting, I did not intent to walk here, but I got lost on my way back to the library. Please forgive me.”

Quickly I shuffled out of Thranduils hold, kneeling besides the servant. I helped him sort his books, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Its alright. You are new, are you not?”

“Yes, your majesty. I am a new scribe in the library.” He didn’t dare to look at me, his eyes trained onto the books. I sighed deeply, wondering what the older elves had told him would happen if he were to look at me. “You know you can look me into the eyes.” I chuckled, ignoring the low huff of my husband behind me.

“I am not to look at the queen. That’s what I have been told by Cabron.” He answered. “He said I would be thrown into the dungeon where my eyes would be poked out and I was to rot to death.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Do not fear me or the wrath of my husband. Cabron is a very… lets say teasing ellon. He was just messing with you. The rule is not to stare at me, looking me in the eyes, when I speak with you is fine.”

“Its not.” Thranduil grumbled behind me, but I shushed him. “Don’t listen to him. He is particularly grumpy today, as he had a run in with dwarves.” Then I stepped next to him. “If you want to the library, you walk down that corridor, take the first left turn, follow the path to the end and then turn right. After that you should be close enough to the library to know.”

The servant bowed again. “Thank you, your majesty.” Then he ran off the way I described to him. Looking at Thranduil, I raised an eyebrow. “Look at what you are doing to the young ellons. The older elves might understand your words in their meaning, but they are using it to torment the young ones.” He didn’t seem to be bothered one bit. “What a shame…” Slowly stalking towards me, a grin spread over his face. “That makes me think of something I said earlier.”

“And what would that be?” I asked breathless, fleeing backwards from my husband. The grin on his lips turning more wolfish with every step he took. “I shall take you where anyone can hear you.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” I shrieked; my eyes wide in shock.

“Oh, and how I would. And I will teach that scum of a dwarf a lesson.” He stopped his prowl, looking at me as if he was thinking about something. And then he yelled at me: “RUN!”

Before I even completely comprehended his words, my body reacted to his command. Gathering my skirt, I turned on the spot, fleeing down the hall, Thranduil hot on my heels. I was giggling like a little child, as I raced through the kingdom. Elves forced to jump aside, looking after us, as we passed them. Soon I was caught between a stone wall, the cliff of a path just above the dungeons and Thranduil blocking my only way out. Trying my best to catch my breath, I leaned against the wall, forcefully slowing my breathing. Then realization dawned on my face: “You routed me here…”

“I did.” There was no regret in his voice, the sly smile still present on his lips. His shoulders were heaving in big breaths, the fabric of his tunic stretching across his chest and arms as he flexed them against the wall. Slowly stalking towards me, he forced me deeper into the dungeon, until my back hit the wall. I looked to the side and down the cliff. Beneath me, I could see the dwarves being captured in their cells. Thorin looking right back at me.

He was about the same height we were currently at, the others of his company below us or him, unable to see what was happening. That didn’t keep them from listening. “Thorin. What's going on up there.” A young voice called out. Thorin’s face contorted, as he answered. “Nothing, Kili. Just the elven king giving into the desire of his flesh once more.”

“What does that even mean?” Kili asked, another voice, very similar to his answered him: “It means the elven king is about to fuck his wife just above you, you moron.”

“Fili!” Thorin thundered, but I couldn’t help but laugh. Even Thranduil had a sly smile on his lips, securely hidden from the dwarves.

“It seems like you have pulled our guests attention, nin iell.” He cockily said and I knew that he was staging a play. Tilting my head, I played along: “Good thing you are here to prevent me from any more danger.”

“Indeed.” He said, letting his eyes shamelessly run over my body. Then with one big last step, he closed the distance between us, picking me up once more. “Thranduil!” I yelped out, clutching at his arms and wrapping my legs around him. He tightened his arms around me, pressing me against the wall. It caused me to make a soft noise, something between a moan and a purr.

Thranduil grinned wolfishly, as one hand wandered from my face, down my shoulder, gripping the belt of my dress. And with one sharp tug, he ripped it from my body. I gasped at his sudden show of violence, the dress falling open. It was one of his favorite dresses. Basically, one long piece of fabric cut into two strands one side up to the middle. To wear it, I simply laid the two strands above my body, while the single strand covered my back. Then I wore a belt to safely secure it around my waist, sorting the fabric over my chest. Now those two strands were flaring widely open, only held between my legs.

Letting the belt fall to the ground, Thranduil gripped the fabric of the dress, slowly pulling it out between us, before he disregarded it onto the floor as well. Now I was naked, my back pressed against the cold stone wall.

“Please.” I begged, making the elf before me hoarsely chuckle, his teeth were grazing my earlobe, biting it gently.

“Please, what?” He asked as he pulled away, his eyes now dark with lust and desire.

“Please touch me.” I breathlessly whispered. It was all he needed. Without wasting any second, his lips captured mine, locking them in the most passionate and fiery way he could muster. The feeling of his lips against mine was enough to knock the air out of my lungs, not to mention the force of his tongue inside my mouth, it was enough to have my mind reeling.

He gently put me down, leaning me against the wall, as he knelt in front of me. Spreading his cloak on the floor to give some warmth from the cold stone. Patting the fabric in front of him, he looked at me with the uttermost desire I had ever seen a man look at me with. Fully aware of Thorins eyes upon me, I walked around Thranduil, taking my place on the ground beneath him. A sly grin on his lips, he shuffled between my legs, throwing one last glance to the dwarf watching us, before he simply dove down.

“Oh my GOD!” His tongue traced my clit lightly, barely giving much stimulation, but even that was enough to make my legs starting to quiver.

While his tongue tracing my clit felt absolutely amazing, nothing prepared me for feeling his tongue tracing along my soaked slit, before delicately prodding inside of me. “Melethron!” I shrieked out, his tongue trailing back to my clit before I felt his finger slowly enter my core. He raised his mouth from my center, looking me straight into my eyes. “By Valar, how I love this.” His voice was nearly a growl. “And by all what is mighty, I will never stop worshipping it.”

He was passionate about pleasing me, humming at my skin. Making sure to wait for me to relax, welcoming the pleasure rather than being surprised by it, before he slowly started to thrust the single digit in and out of my core. I tossed my head back, gripping the fabric of his cloak at the feeling of his long fingers reaching parts of me that I could never reach myself.

“Fuck!” I yelped out, his finger finding the perfect spot inside of me, curling to massage it gently and bringing me closer to the edge. My walls pulsating in rhythm with his thrusts, the wet and messy sounds of my pleasure filling the room. I felt him moan, even more as he brought his free hand up my chest, pinching and pulling my nipple before switching to the neglected breast, simultaneously adding a second finger. 

I cried out for him. “I’m so close, please don’t stop! Please don’t stop!” My back began to arch off the ground, as his ministrations went on, his fingers pounding into my core as his lips continued to suck eagerly at my clit. “Oh my…” I rasped, my voice hoarse and thin. “Thranduil!” I yelled, as my orgasm washed over me all the sudden. Riding it out, as he refused to cease his actions on my body until I couldn’t take any more and had to pull him away.

“Oh, how I love seeing you like this. All ready for me.” Thranduil snickered, his eyes trained on the spot between my legs. I could feel my wetness slowly dripping out of my core, running down onto his cloak. “To bad, a certain dwarf had to interrupt me fucking you on my throne. Making you the queen you were born to be. I would have fucked my seed so deep inside of you. Taking you until you are begging for me to stop.  Making you a crying mess for everyone to hear. And then I would have carried you back to our chambers, my cum leaking out of your pretty little pussy.”

I whined at his words, my body instinctively arching. “You are so needy for me. My beautiful little slut.” Playing with my folds, he pulled another moan from my lips. Forcing them into me, he curled them once more, finding my sweet spot just so easily, reaching places I couldn’t reach myself. “This pussy belongs to me, you hear me?”

“Yes.” I breathed out, my voice high pitched from the pleasure he was once again granting me.

“Yes what?” He snarled, his blue eyes squinting with a slight threat that shot the heat right between my legs.

“Yes, my king.” I mewled. “Please. I need you. Please…” Sounding like a needy child, I cried out for him, spreading my legs further to coax him in. He stopped moving his fingers inside of me, slowly pulling them out. “Do it again. Beg for it. I know you want to.”

“Thranduil…” My moan was reflected by the walls, traveling through the halls up to the throne room. “Please, my king. I need you. I want you to take me. Make me your queen, please…” Without a warning, he lined his cock up with my entrance, bottoming out in one go. I yelped at the pain of being stretched so suddenly, but it soon subsided, when he started his slow and passionate pace. He wanted to take his time. Relish in the moment.

I was a quivering mess beneath him. My eyes rolling back into my head, lips hanging open, hands gripping at everything they felt. He growled above me, causing my eyes to snap open. Like a ravenous predator, his eyes captured mine. A desire burning inside of them that only he could produce. “Please…” I whimpered once again, now completely pushed into submission by his demeanor. He grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him. Then he turned my head towards the cliff. “Look at him.” Thranduil ordered and I opened my eyes, seeing Thorin stand in his cell. His hands harshly gripping the metal rods of the door.

Thranduil tapped my lips with his fingers and I obediently opened my mouth, taking his long digits down my throat. I choked on their length, but forced down the gag reflex. “Hands above your head.” He ordered and I quickly moved them where he wanted them. His response was taking them into his big hand, the pace switching from slow to a more moderate speed, knocking the air out of my lungs.

My head hung back, my lips being parted by his fingers, drool running down my cheeks, as I gave myself to him. The searing heat returning, starting between my legs and slowly burning its way through every fiber of my body. Soon my moans were accompanied by his groans, the sound of him growling my name and cursing in elvish dragging me towards the edge in record speed. I tried to ask for more, but his fingers restrained me from forming a coherent sentence. With a knowing grin, he let go of my mouth, looking at me challengingly: “What is it, nin iell?”

“M… More.” I moaned out. “Please. I need more.” He hummed at my request, bending down to kiss me. “Hmmm. My little petal. So eager to be fucked. Wishing to be ruined by her king.” He murmured between kisses, smothering every inch of my body he could reach. Unable to even process his words, he caught me by surprise, when he took my right leg and threw it over his shoulder, the space now enabling him to pound into me even deeper.

“Thranduil!” I cried out, twitching beneath him and trying to get away from his harsh thrusts. His cock hitting me deeply and perfectly on my sweet spot, to an extend that I wasn’t sure if it was still pleasure that shot through my body. “This was what you requested, was it not?” He cued and I couldn’t help but mewl. “It is what you begged me for. To give you more, isn’t that right, gilgalad?”

Trying my hardest to answer him, I opened my lips, bit my sentence got ripped away by the sudden moan that rushed through my lips. Even though I was staring at my husband, I wasn’t really able to focus on anything in particular. All my attention laying on the feelings he freed deeply in my body. “There… Please…” My words were slurred and hasty, my brain drunken from the pleasure overtaking my body. “Here?” He cockily asked, repeating the exact movement that had me reeling in a mixture of pleasure and overstimulation. “Or perhaps here?” Dragging his free hand over my body, he pinched my nipples hard, before he let his fingers wander lower. Circling my clit with soft little touches, he watched me, as I fell apart.

Searing hot the fire rushed through my veins. I tried to warn him from my upcoming orgasm, but my body was faster than my mind. My walls clamping down around his cock, I shakily came undone beneath him, the cry of his name ringing through the halls and echoing in the distance. A string of elvish curse words left my husband, my hip now marked in a new red bruise of his hand. But he didn’t falter in his thrusts. Relentlessly pounding into me, knowingly overstimulating me in the chase of his own release.

“I… Cant… Please… cant…” I cried out, but he cut me off with a hand around my throat. “Take it.” He growled. “I know you can. Be a good girl for me and take my cock.” His eyes were burning dark, the wild lust flaming through his pupils. And then he squeezed my throat, watching me, as my eyes rolled back into my head once more. The cry of his name, caught in my throat, my body overshooting with bliss and a blinding fire.

Trembling. That’s what I was able to do and not much more. My frame buried beneath the king, as he captured my swollen lips with his, only giving me short allowances of air. My vision got blurry, a tingly feeling spreading through my limps and I nearly missed the second wave of hot pleasure racing through my body. Thranduil of course noticed by the way my walls were gripping him once more. “Come.” He demanded. “Come for me again.”

It was all I needed to hear, when he let go of my throat, supporting his weight on both of his arms, letting go of my hands. Shattering around him a second time, I gripped his shoulders, pressing myself against his frame to find something to ground me against the violent shivers that overtook my body. It was blinding and breathtaking, as I released the blistering heat in my body with a cry of his name, that was surely heard in all Mirkwood.

I barely noticed him being brought to his own release, the stuttering pulse of my walls, finally pulling him over the edge as well. A growl on his lips, he captured my mouth with his, forcing me into a heated and passionate kiss. The once harsh and fervent snaps of his hips melted into soft bucks, rolling against my core until he slowly came to a stop.

It took him a few moments to find his composure again, but when he did, he slowly pulled out of me and I couldn’t help myself but curse. “I am sorry, meleth nin.” He whispered, stroking the hair out of my face. “I should have been softer on you.” Looking over my body, he let his hand rest against my core, cooling the heated flesh with his cold touch. Then he got up on his feet, and I only now realized, that he was still wearing all of his clothes. Smiling at him, I tried to get up, but he shook his head.

“Rest, meleth, I will take care of you.” Once he had his clothes sorted, he kneeled down next to me again, carefully wrapping his cloak around my shivering body, the coldness of the dungeons slowly creeping into my bones. “Thranduil…” I whimpered out, trying to reach out for him, but he shushed me immediately. “Its alright, little ithil. I got you.” Then he turned to grab my dress, but his action were interrupted by a sly grin. Handing me the belt, he crumpled the fabric into a ball. Getting up to his feet, he hurled it across the distance, directly between two metal rods of Thorins cell and directly into his face.

“Keep it as a reminder of your place, dwarf.” Thranduil gritted out between his teeth an arrogant and possessive smile on his lips. Thorin looked as surprised as I was, but his expression quickly turning sour. “You will pay for this, elf!” He yelled, but Thranduil just chuckled. “We will see about that.” Picking me up from the ground, he made his way through the dungeon and up the little pathways. In the distance I could still hear Thorin cursing us out in Khuzdul, his voice quickly fading into nothing more than a quiet background noise…

On our way back to our chambers, we passed several elves all of which carried a sly smile on their lips, that could have rivaled my husband himself.

Part 2:

[shirefantasies]

First off, congratulations on 300 followers 🎉 I’m a big fan of your work! I was wondering if you could write about the different elf characters and how they would react to realizing they have feelings for a hobbit! reader?

Thank you & my apologies for the late response on this one 😅 but this is a fun one so let's see!

The Elves Realizing Their Feelings for Hobbit!Reader

Thranduil

Denial penetrates every corner of the woodland king's mind- such a humble creature, known not in the slightest for their ways of allure, and yet you permeate his thoughts so! Surely it was your reaction to the sight of him, the simplicity of your manner that was ever so refreshing. Thranduil knows little more than reverence to a fault, cowing and great shows and yet…you see him. You treat him as anyone else. No fanfare, but no expectations either. No doubts. Thus he works to doubt you less, to make less assumptions about your ability and even jokes about your stature. He finds as you talk that you share a love of nature, all your reverence dedicated almost solely to the earth’s growing things, the way roots seek what they need. Thranduil does the same, you point out, and ever does he endure in his place of nourishment, but sometimes any plant needs a good repotting. Astute, very astute, and yet your words strike his heart like an arrow. You, he wishes to say, are his repotting. But perhaps he should put that more romantically… all the greatest shows of elvenkind for a mere hobbit. Who would have thought? Thranduil reflects with a fond, amazed smile.

Feren

From the moment he grabbed hold of you, knife pressed to the back of your neck, Feren puzzled at the way his heartbeat sped, not yours. You were no threat to him, you were nothing in fact save an intruder in his lord Thranduil's realm, one of many his patrol took into custody. You were the smallest, he noticed, and certainly the least deadly if the startled, pleading look in your eyes was anything to go off of. Why did you keep... No, he could hardly relent, not when he had orders to- "You are afraid?" He found himself whispering to you, hiding his gaze upon you by hovering it over you and the other hobbit. You nod and he begins to whisper words of comfort to you, explaining that while stubborn, his king was nothing if not benevolent and would likely simply detain you. No harm would come your way. When indeed Thranduil sentenced your odd company to imprisonment, he found himself strolling to your cell time and time again, offering you food and drink and answering your rapid fire of questions ranging from what would happen to you to soon what customs were practiced in the Woodland Realm. "I think this place is beautiful," you told him, "I think if I were to rot anywhere, I am glad that it is to be here." "I think so, too," Feren agreed, and why he spoke the next part he still did not know, "And I do not think that shall be your fate." It was not until he walked away from you, considering what things he might bring to show you, that he realized how attracted to you he truly had become.

Legolas

Finds himself studying you, gaze unable to fall from you for too long, searching your every movement. Suddenly his interest in hobbits has increased tenfold; in fact, Legolas begins speaking more to Frodo and Sam about their customs, favorite things back in the Shire. His heart swells further for it just as you, taking in with bright eyes every spray of harebell and piping hot cup of lavender tea with scones and little gift of courtship presented to the hobbit of one's dreams. Pastoral, joyful, many delights absent from the prince's own upbringing- what a breath of fresh air you are! But what does he say to you? If possible, the elven prince finds himself even quieter than normal, simply captivated by your every motion. As a result he leans upon conveyance through action, rushing to your defense in battle and being there to catch you when you fall, enjoying in the briefest moments the feeling of his hands about your waist.

Haldir

Years have worn him. Battles have hardened him. Customs have dictated he be free of emotion as much as possible, or else suppress display of them for decorum. You, by contrast, are so innocent, almost painfully so and every sight of your wide, shining eyes has Haldir swearing to protect you. The world cannot take away your wonder, your sweetness, the good you see in all people. Oh, he cannot even wish immortal life upon you for all its horrors, and does he even wish it for himself? The small being remaining within him cries out for your life, to be swept off to your Shire and work hard at cultivating joy above all else. While that future may not lie ahead of him, he seeks it in every question he asks, every story he requests. Often does he marvel at your hidden strengths and wonders, especially in such a deceptively small package.

Galadriel

Oh, the way you charm and flatter her! Someone so small yet without any fear in the world as you spill the sweetest words before her. Galadriel cannot help smiling, especially when you gently take her hand and she sees just how small yours looks in hers. She begins to dream of ways she could hold you, how she can reach down to cup your cheeks… And then without warning she is lost in reverie. Her space is yours and you all but have free rein of her home. All from these unexpected, wildly blossoming feelings. Secretly she wishes you would still seek her out, but Galadriel knows above all that that choice is yours. She will simply have to wait and see and hope each dream she shares of simple joys like a riverside walk or even drawing closer to you in greater, deeper ways from the recesses of her mind, are shared by you…

Lindir

These unfamiliar sensations he experiences in your presence can only be one thing. The desire to run his fingers through your curls, surely soft as they appear. The way you have become his muse, inspiring more than a single song. You have a greater appreciation for arts than Lindir must admit he would have expected of the Shire-folk, and your wonder has him wishing to experience it all again for the first time. Is he to speak these things aloud? Does he dare? Whatever might Lord Elrond think if his servant were to do such a thing? Not, of course, that he has not wished Lindir great happiness. Happiness. Your smile, so genuine, sincere as your bright words. Yes, you are happiness, and such cannot go unspoken, or perhaps unsung…

Elrond

Many words have been spoken of the quiet strength of hobbits, quite a few of them by the Lord of Imladris himself. You are no exception to this, appearing before him as a little blaze of fire unafraid to make demands at council. He cannot even fight, just chuckle and hear your terms, and he wonders if you take notice of the way the others look at his soft response. Why, he wonders, is he being so giving- simple appreciation for the pastoral little folk and all they symbolize for the joy and hope of the world? Perhaps, but a part of him is forced to admit… He is attracted to you. Much time has passed since Elrond has been met with such a force, and quite simply put it stirs something in him. Much as he has endured in this world, your desire to fight for every joy you've ever known rings true to Elrond's own creation of a house of comfort...in your own special way. He cannot help but smile as he listens to you.

Arwen

Developing a little habit for teasing you, Arwen always manages to slink behind you and offer to help you reach something off a high shelf, voice low and lips curved upward. She is older than her visage suggests, wiser, thus you are not the first hobbit to cross her path and she looks upon you with no great shock. She does, however, seek to show a greater level of respect than the so-called 'little folk' tend to be shown. During discussions with her father and the other elves, Arwen smiles and waves you forward, especially if you happen to be shy, then her affection only grows, a hand falling over your shoulder and her smile widening. The more time you spend together, the more this happens, Arwen taking your hand to wish you well, sliding a hand over your waist to move past you, even playfully nudging you when you run together and always keeping pace with you. She is comfortable with you, she realizes, happiest at your side, and that is when it sinks in: she loves you.

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[cottoncandiescupcakes]

Elrond: is the greatest elven mind of all time and a great warrior too

Someone: Shouldn't ELROND be King

Elves: No Gil-Galad and Thranduil should be Kings

Someone: But why

Elves: They're tall and have shiny hair and great legs

Someone: But shouldn't the most wise-

Elves: Not really

Someone: What about Lady Galadriel for High Queen. She's beautiful, incredible, powerful, everyone loves her

Elves: No women are too emotional to rule

Someone: King Thranduil just kicked someone off a cliff for having thin eyebrows

Elves: And it was deserved. Thranduil 4 King 4ever

[mismaeve]

Ashes of the Heart

↳ Ashes of the Heart, Thranduil x Fem!Reader, modern AU ↳ Requested by @fizzyxcustard Word Count: 2.3k TW: heavy angst, cursing, graphic descriptions, references to death A/N: This was such an amazing request to write, I enjoyed myself so much! I didn't know I could produce such angst, but here we are so read at your own peril. Any feedback is always welcome and much appreciated. Enjoy! 𓋼𓍊 Backstory: Thranduil who works in military as elite special operations leader, is leaving his lover to oversee a Navy SEALs mission. It's something he has done countless of times, only this time - his lover has a bad feeling about it.

«For how long?»

Your question was one that you had asked many times before. Always the same. A question without an answer as you watched him pack his duffel-bag, barely anything inside it, save for a few shirts and clean socks, and boxer briefs. His lack of an answer hung heavily within the four walls of your spacious bedroom.

“I see,” you sighed heavily. You knew well enough to trust that if he could, he would tell you. Begging and pleading would change nothing, and you had quickly adapted to a life of being kept in the dark. What you didn’t know couldn’t hurt you, but it could drive you mad during those lonely nights when your fear for him became your greatest enemy. Scenario after scenario of every little thing that could have gone wrong – the image of your beloved injured or worse…

You shuddered.

“What is it, my love?” concern filled his pale eyes as his hand clasped your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against the softness of your skin. You closed your eyes, savoring his touch for the solitude that was to come.

“It feels different this time,” you confessed, your eyes dropping to your hands – a jumble of nervous fingers.

“How do you mean?” Thranduil asked softly.

“I feel like something bad is going to happen to you,” you whispered, your admission sending a painful jolt through your heart and filling your stomach with lead.

“Oh, my sweet, you know-”

“Yes, I know you’re never on the ground yourself. Believe me, I know this. But I can’t shake this feeling,” you interrupted him, desperately wanting him to understand and accept your concern.

You always let him go, never fussed or begged him to stay. You knew how important his work was to him – to the entire country and maybe even the world. His brilliant mind was the one hidden behind every successful operation. How could you keep him to yourself when everyone’s safety – including your own – depended on him?

You had adjusted, not only your life but your expectations as well. Only tonight, the sickening feeling of dread was like poison inside your mind, spreading its bile throughout your entire body.

“Oh, my darling,” Thranduil pulled you into his arms and kissed your hair. You held onto him for dear life, afraid of what might happen if you were to let go. Your premonition of tragedy only growing with each gentle stroke that trickled down your back, causing your skin to break out in goosebumps.

“I always come back to you, do I not?” he whispered against your hair, his body rocking yours back and forth slowly and tenderly, a simple motion meant to soothe your growing worry.

“But you never promise,” you pointed out. “You never promise to come back because even you know that there is still some danger to what you do and where you go,” you insisted, pulling away to look at the man you loved beyond any reason and doubt.

His pale eyes held yours, the understanding gleaming through from the depths of his own soul. He knew you were right.

“Believe me when I say that no force in this world would keep me from returning to you,” Thranduil said. “You are my home, my peace from the destruction that is our world. You’re my haven during a raging storm. Nothing will keep me away from you.”

You bit back the tears that had come unannounced and nodded. If only to please him, you would muster the last of your courage and strength. You swallowed the bitter lump of foreboding and forced yourself to smile. He deserved a proper and loving good-bye, not tears and childlike pleas.

“Be safe, will you?” you said softly and placed your palm to his cheek. Thranduil leaned into your touch with a reposeful sigh, his eyes closing briefly while he cherished this last moment between you.

“Always,” he whispered.

An hour later you were sat on your bed alone.

Days turned into weeks which turned into months. Not a phone call or a text, no letters of any kind – Thranduil appeared to be fallen off this Earth entirely. It became harder and harder to remind yourself that he wasn’t allowed to communicate while planning and overseeing an operation. With each day that went by without a word from him, your unease had turned malignant – eating and tearing away at your mind like a disease for which there was no remedy.

You had a number to call in case of an emergency, but you couldn’t bring yourself to use it. This wasn’t the first time when he had been gone for months on end, you had survived that, surely you would persevere this time as well. If only it weren’t for that pesky feeling that wouldn’t go away. Without knowing how or why, you knew with crystal-clear certainty that something was wrong. You had known it long before he had walked out the door.

Another month had gone by without any news of his whereabouts when you awoke with a scream, tiny beads of sweat covering your forehead. Your heart was pounding inside your ribcage, threatening to burst any minute with every shallow breath you drew. Wheezing and gasping for air with tears streaming down your cheeks, you tried to catch your breath while still being held captive by the nightmare that had just haunted you.

You jumped at the sound of the doorbell, a yelp escaping your trembling lips. Fumbling with the light, your fingers still shaking from your vivid dream, you struggled to switch it on. Tumbling over your own sheets in your rush to get out of bed, you nearly fell out with your face first.

With your heart lodged inside your throat, you rushed to the door and peered through the tiny peephole. A well-dressed man was standing on the other side, patiently waiting for you to open. In your flustered state you hadn’t immediately recognised the familiar face of Jerry, a man who worked closely with Thranduil. Mindless of your current attire, you unlocked and threw open the door.

“What’s happened?” you demanded, not bothering to hide the panic that laced your voice.

“I’m sorry for coming unannounced in the middle of the night, but I fear this couldn’t wait for a more decent hour,” Jerry’s tone was calm and collected, a blatant contrast to your own disheveled self.

“Tell me,” you urged him. The sinking feeling in your stomach warning you that the news he bore were far from good. A nauseating wave of hot and cold reverberated through your entire body, your insides twisting and churning in painful anticipation.

“Let’s talk inside, shall we?” Jerry offered with a quick nod in the direction of your apartment.

“I need to know, Jerry,” you insisted as the two of you had taken your seats on the couch at his request.

A heartbeat passed before your husband’s highly esteemed colleague began divulging the events that had taken place during the operation. It appeared that there had been a leak, and the entire campaign had been compromised from the very beginning. The team of Navy SEALS had been deployed as planned, their movements tracked and monitored by intelligence officers, the entire operation led and overseen by Thranduil as chief elite special operations leader. Everything had seemed to go as planned when their systems had suddenly crashed and shut down entirely, leaving them in the dark about the movements of their men on the ground.

“Well? Go on,” you pushed for Jerry to continue after he had taken a brief pause.

“I’m sorry, I-,” he cut himself off and lowered his head, his shoulders slumping, clearly unable to go on.

“For fuck’s sake, tell me!” you choked out through gritted teeth, fighting back the tears that threatened to come. You felt you couldn’t breathe but you had to know. After everything that they had put you through, they owed you this much.

Jerry lifted his head, his face drawn and utterly defeated. His look was that of pity, like he knew what he was about to do to you. Nonetheless, you stood your ground in defiance, even as your heart had already begun to crack and splinter.

The supposed glitch in their systems had turned out to be a cleverly crafted ruse, a temporary disabling of the sensory motion detectors orchestrated by the terrorists so their drones could slip in undetected. When their back-up systems had picked up the slack, it had already been too late. Several explosions had riddled the base of their headquarters as the drones had launched their assault. A perfectly plotted mission to eliminate the brilliant and tireless minds behind the curtains. All turned to ash.

No bodies had been recovered from the scene.

An ear-piercing cry filled your apartment, threatening to shatter your windows – just as your own heart had shattered into a million pieces. You screamed and wailed until your throat burned raw, your chest painfully heaving with each useless breath you took. Unaware of the steady arms that had wrapped around you, holding your convulsing frame, you continued to unleash your blazing agony.  There was no end in sight, no promise of a respite, however temporary, only grief – dark and thick, and unyielding. An endless sorrow took over your body and promised to never let go. There was nothing left for you, only pain forever etched in your soul at his sudden departure.

You knew with uncanny certainty that you had died that night. In his passing, he had taken you along with him.

Three weeks earlier

Jerry was pacing up and down the narrow corridor, his thoughts racing quicker than he could pay attention to. His once sharp and focused mind had become nothing more than a blur. He silently cursed himself for agreeing to do this, his regret already eating away at his conscience.

He couldn’t do it.

Jerry stopped his pacing and closed his eyes. He slowed down his throbbing mind by focusing on his breathing, a practice he employed whenever his wits threatened to abandon him. If he was to have this particular conversation, he would need his devices to remain cool and collected, even if his counterpart appeared to had lost his.

He wouldn’t do it.

With a nod of quiet determination, he turned on his heel and headed in the direction of his colleague’s room.

“What is it that you do not comprehend?” he hissed in anger.

“I don’t understand why you’re willing to put her through this when it’s so uncalled for,” Jerry argued back albeit his voice lower and gentler than that of his friend.

“Uncalled for?! Look at me! Who am I to condemn her to loving a monster?” Thranduil spat in burning fury.

“She loves you, you know she does. She’ll love you regardless of how you look,” Jerry tried to make him see reason, but Thranduil only shook his head in dismissal.

“No.”

“Coward,” Jerry stated simply, crossing his arms over his chest. His own defiance preventing him from backing down.

“Fuck you, Jerry.”

“You’re a coward. Because why else would you ask me to tell your wonderfully loving wife, who probably at this very moment wishes for nothing more than your safe return, that you have died? You say it’s for her, but I think it’s your own vanity and fear that drive you to do this. That’s not love or mercy.”

Thranduil regarded him in silence, his right eye not blinking. The sight of him was horrific – the left side of his face was covered in bandages, his previously golden-white hair now burnt off entirely, leaving a patchy scalp riddled with burn-blisters. What was left of his skin was red and swollen. His chest was submerged underneath countless burn dressings, his left arm wrapped in medical gauze – from his fingertips to his shoulder. He couldn’t see Thranduil’s legs, but he imagined his left leg was in no better shape than the rest of him.

Jerry schooled his features, the last thing his colleague needed was to see pity in his eyes.

Thranduil turned his head away from his friend, his gaze drifting to the lone window of his hospital room.

“It’s because I love her, that I have to do this,” he began quietly. “I’ve no doubt that she would love me despite my injuries. She would want to nurse me back to health, without a complaint or single regret. She’d do anything for me.”

“It’s because I love her, that I don’t wish this kind of life for her. A life stuck with me, caring for me while I’m slowly consumed by my rage. I’ve become a disfigured cripple who may never walk again or regain the use of his arm. Half of my face has been melted off straight to the bone,” he bit out through gritted teeth, his voice breaking.

“If I haven’t become a monster yet, it’s where I’m headed. I am angry at the entire world and that anger will only grow with time. I can’t subject her to share her life with an ungrateful, bitter beast. Not when she deserves to live.”

Jerry heard Thranduil’s breath hitch ever so softly, the sound of it piercing his heart like a bullet. It was gut-wrenching to witness his close friend be reduced to this – a heap of charred flesh with a broken spirit.

“She won’t survive it,” he said quietly.

Thranduil turned his head, a sad smile playing on the corner of his mouth, a glimmer of genuine pride gleaming in his good eye.

“She’ll think so too, that there is no surviving this. But she’s strong,” his smile widened knowingly. “Fierce. Even if she may not know it yet.”

“What if you one day, say a year from now, regret your decision? What if you find yourself wanting to find her?” Jerry asked.

“I doubt that will ever happen. But if it did…,” Thranduil trailed off and paused.

“I’d pray that she could find it in her to forgive me and would gladly spend the rest of my life trying to earn that forgiveness.”

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@a-contemplation-upon-flowers @fizzyxcustard @dawn-petrichor-world @lathalea @fckmini

𓋼𓍊 Thranduil Tag → @coopsgirl @missymoo02 @imsorare @ioitsmeri1

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[meluiloth]

Let's talk about Thranduil (and the Mirkwood Elves)

The Woodland Elves are well known for being a suspicious and reclusive people, Thranduil most of all - but they are also as merry and light-hearted as the other Elven civilizations when it comes to their own people.

So I want to talk about why that is, why Thranduil is so determined to remain isolated. The reason is actually pretty simple: he lost everything in the War of the Last Alliance.

The army of Greenwood joined forces with the Elves and Men against Mordor, though their army was smallest and their people less skilled with open war, led by Oropher, Thranduil's father. Thranduil himself was there as well (and though not much is known about his wife, I headcanon her as fighting alongside her husband and her people).

The Free Peoples won that war, but with a heavy cost - and the Silvan Elves suffered greatest of all. They lost two-thirds of their army and their King, and returned to Greenwood crippled and mourning. (I headcanon that's when Thranduil lost his wife, too). The Prince of Greenwood had to take the burden of the crown while his people were suffering and while his home was rapidly falling into decay, along with struggling through the grief of losing his father (and his wife).

To my knowledge, there is nothing in the lore about the Silvan Elves receiving help from their allies, so I assume that they were left to rebuild alone, and also to contend with the Necromancer who had taken up residence in their home, and who they were not strong enough to exorcize themselves. They were even forced to take refuge underground, which hurt their woodland and tree-loving souls.

Thranduil was alone. Of course he would become bitter and reclusive, wanting to focus on helping his own people while resenting the fact that, though they had sacrificed so much, no one came to their aid. He decided that he would lend no more aid, make no more sacrifices, and suffer no more losses on account of those who would not return the favor. That was the end of that.

And really, who can blame him?

[scary-grace]

hey, if it isn't too much to ask, in the next few days im gonna go through some tough changes, could you share some fluffy hc/little facts about the characters in kairos? (love how my comfort fic is also the one that fucks ne up the most but oh well wouldnt have it any other way lmaokdnak)

I can give you some fluffy headcanons! Here are just a few:

Kili has a very hobbit-like view of birthdays, even before he meets Bilbo. He likes to give people presents rather than receive them, because the best present for him is everyone being happy at his party.

Bard's radio was a gift from his mom. He's been using the same one for twenty years, and he's able to repair it whenever it breaks, however it breaks.

Tauriel makes friends easily following the move to New Hampshire, but when it comes down to it, she would rather be with her family than anywhere else. She has grand plans of hosting a sleepover at the estate.

Thorin owned exactly one record before he met Bilbo, and it was Simon and Garfunkel's greatest hits, which was released in 1972. His favorite songs are The Sound of Silence and Mrs. Robinson, and his family has developed almost Pavlovian rage responses to hearing either one.

When it comes to clothing and decor, Thranduil secretly enjoys bright or rich colors. He inherited most of his furniture, but if he had a choice, he would go with whatever caught his eye. His preference for color also appears in his artwork. Left to his own devices, he'd probably get really into Impressionist-style works.

Thank you for the ask! I can do a few more characters as well if anyone would like. I hope your tough times go as easily as possible and you feel a little better soon. <3

[pastanest]

if you’re wondering why I’m having to repost this, or why you were perhaps previously following me but no longer are, please refer to this post. I was able to retrieve this thanks to the very lovely friends who have relentlessly sifted through tumblr archives to recover them, thank you all so much!! ♡

Thranduil x Shy!S/O

- it was your shyness that initially revealed your affection towards him, the King noticed the blush that bloomed in your cheeks after he complimented you, and it was curious to him

- he wondered if you were so shy with others, or whether such shyness was a telltale sign of your affections, and he sought to find out

- he invited you to a ball, and when you arrived, you were of course complimented by many. the King expected this, given that your beauty did not go unnoticated by others

- he was disappointed to see a similar reaction to others compliments, but upon seeing your discomfort at a rather grotesque man complimenting you, the King was fuelled by his rage, and reached your side in an instant

- he concluded that your shyness was a natural response to everyone, but if you were uncomfortable, he now knew what your reaction was, which told him that you were comfortable around him. Thranduil was impressed by his own research

- however, the more time he spent with you, the more shy you became around him, and this was quite confusing to the King. in his mind, surely by spending more time together you would grow more comfortable and confident, not the polar opposite?

- still, he found your shyness very endearing, he was enchanted by your rosy cheeks and shy smiles, and he soon realised that he was subconsciously making any effort to do things deliberately that he knew would make you shy, such as kissing your hand or paying you compliments

- before you were officially courting, Thranduil’s affections remained reserved, but these small exchanges of sweet words and fleeting kisses were enough to fluster you beyond comprehension

- the King dared to dream how much more flustered you would get with further expressions of intimacy, and so, he bore his soul to you

- and sure enough, your shyness increased at the same speed as your level of intimacy with the King

- given how shy you were, Thranduil was not expecting any outwardly spoken expressions of affection from you, but given how much you adored him, you plucked up the courage to confess your heart’s greatest secrets to him

- considering he wasnt expecting this, the Elven King was overjoyed

- and every time after that when you let your heart take control, Thranduil had the same wonderful grin on his face that no other person could place there but you

- and you can bet any money you have that for the rest of eternity, Thranduil will never stop doing things that will make you blush

[ineffablemurderhusbands]

I am finally posting a longfic that I've been writing for the last 3 years. It's called Mockingbird and here's the sinopse:

The war is won. Everything is fine. But not for Thorin as he is riddled with Dragon Sickness and ends up pushing away the woman that he loves right into the arms of his greatest enemy. Now Thranduil is the one she loves and she is engaged to be married to him. Will Thorin be able to regain her heart or will Thranduil continue to be the love of her life?

Please check it out, I've been having a blast writing this.

[laora-ryn]

Omg y'all, my husband's family had a tradition growing up that when any of them were sick (which was pretty often, since he's one of seven kids), they would watch the 1977 Rankin/Bass Hobbit movie. Their dad really loves Tolkien but was generally not a fan of letting the kids use The Tech (tm), so I think this is the compromise the older kids wrangled from him

I have heard about this movie from him and his siblings, but didn't really know anything about it myself since my parents weren't super into Tolkien, so I got into it with the PJ LOTR movies

ANYWAY so we've been sick all week and James found out that movie's on HBO, so he sat me down and made me watch it as a Time Honored Tradition

And I.

Bilbo has approximated Leia buns??? I spent an hour and seventeen minutes looking at him, but still have not figured out what is going on with this guy's hair

They really leaned hard into "there's thorin and uhhhhhhhhhh twelve other dwarves idk their names don't matter." The only ones I could keep straight were fili and kili, since they were blond, and balin and dwalin, because they have like, six-heads and brain wrinkles on their head lol

James always described Gollum in this movie as a booger, and now I understand why. They also made him blind, which doesn't make a ton of sense in the context of Bilbo using the ring to escape, but imo it's a neat design choice nonetheless

They really did THIS to thranduil oropherion I am still laughing my ASS off at this. He also spoke with a really shitty, half assed French accent for no discernable reason

And then there was? Smaug??? Who has laser beams for eyes?? And fur on his back?? And a tiger's face???? And pecs????????

I was too flabbergasted to remember to take more pictures but the conversation right before the battle went like this:

Thorin, Bard, and Thranduil: let's fuck these guys up!!

Gandalf: STOP you fools!!! As we speak there is a FOURTH army of goblins on its way here!!!

Thorin, Bard, and Thranduil:

Thorin: King Thranduil, my dearest friend and greatest ally, I would be honored to join forces with you to defeat this evil

Thranduil: oh mighty king thorin, it would be an honor [I wish I was making this up, if it weren't made in the 70s I would've thought it was a meme]

Also, at the end, bombur shows up in front of Bilbo only to keel over and die, before we cut to Bilbo's conversation with gandalf:

Bilbo: how many of our original thirteen remain??

Gandalf: seven :(

Bilbo: and thorin??

Gandalf: soon, it will be six :((((

No explanation for this or like, explanation of who else they arbitrarily killed off or anything

So anyway, this movie was An Experience (tm) and I wanted to share and also, y'all should watch it if you get the chance bc lol

[thelordofgifs]

Obscure Tolkien Blorbo: Round 1

Elros vs Oropher

Elros:

Twin brother of Elrond, son of Elwing and Eärendil, and the first King of Númenor.

He's always overshadowed by his brother but Elros is EVERYTHING actually. The only person to ever choose mortality for its own sake and not because of love, the first and greatest king of Númenor, the wise leader of men, the open-hearted adventurer!!

Oropher:

One of the Elves of Doriath, he established the Woodland Realm. The father of Thranduil.

So, a few points here. As far as we know Oropher wasn't related to any notable Kings (unless you make the assumption that the word 'kin' in LOTR always means 'blood relation' instead of 'fellow wood elf', which is a reach given the context imo), and so he likely became King through ability and charisma, which makes is more interesting to me than rulership through a Powerful and Pure Bloodline. In addition, Oropher didn't just go to the Silvan elves to rule over them - he admired them, integratinb into their society, taking on Silvan names and adopting their language. It seems that Oropher came away from witnessing the kinslaying at Doriath and decided the elves were better off 'rude and rustic' as long as they weren't killing each other. Which is a pretty decent political stance, if you ask me. On the other hand, he and his peoples' independence in the Last Alliance led to his demise (and that of 2/3rds of his subjects). I also imagine that him charging forward ahead of everyone else recklessly was part of the self-confidence that let him go off into Greenwood the Great and become King of a bunch of complete strangers in the first place. I love a character whose flaws and virtues are inextricably linked. Also, I'm a big fan of the fact that whenever Galadriel & Celeborn got too close to him he would move his entire fortress because he just resented them that much. I wonder if they were offended.

He traveled to the greenwood, and the Silvans took him, an outsider, as their king, which means they likely saw great qualities in him, and he refused to be under Gil-Galads command in the last alliance likely because he was either trying to protect his people, because what right did Gil Galad have to command him anyway, (or because he took one look at Gil galad son of Sauron and Morgoth for all he knew and said “nope, I don’t trust him,”). All in all he likely always had his people’s best interests at heart, and he tried his hardest to protect them as well as he could.

Round 1 masterpost

[celebbun]

Is Melkorist something like what the Numenoreans were doing?

I'm guessing this is in reference to my tags on @melkors-defense-attorney 's post here.

While Númenor's cult to Melkor is certainly the clearest and most explicit form of Melkorism we see in the Legendarium, it's not what I mean when I reference it in junction with Thranduil's character.

I'll put the the explanation under a cut because it's quite long:

To get started, I think I first have to explain both what Thranduil and Melkor represent to me.

Thranduil I think represents growth, or more specifically, regrowth. It's right there on the meaning of his name (or epessë in my headcanon), Vigorous Spring. Spring as in the season after winter, the unquieting of things, blooming and, most of all, regrowth. Spring is the season of life that comes after the harsh, silent and dead winter. It softens the blow of the cold and promotes renewal, offering hope for a new cycle of growth. That's exactly what Thranduil means to me. He's the one to regroup and rebuild and reestablish both home and hope, and that's so incredibly valuable to people after a period of great loss and uncertainty. He takes the hand of those who have suffered and helps them grieve, but also helps them look beyond that grief and towards finding new hope and purpose. Hearing his voice after a long, hard battle would be akin to hearing the first notes of the song of a bird at the end of winter and knowing that the cold will finally give way to warmth and all will be well.

Melkor, on the other hand, means change. He’s chaos and time and inevitability. All things change, for better or for worse; no matter what you do or wish for. Nothing is ever static, and that constant motion is only natural. Change is fundamental do life, life doesn’t exist without change. Change is present in all aspects of life, from the greatest to the most minute. A person may die or give birth, and that is change; or their cells might divide and create new tissues, and that is also change. Molecules will attach to certain receptors or promote the synthesis of a new protein, and all that will have tiny or immense impacts on an organism, like smelling a new perfume or the synthesis of antibodies that will help protect the body from an infection. The point is: life is dependant on change.

One of the greatest changes a living thing can suffer, and one that promotes the most growth is, ironically, death. The death of an organism is one that nurtures soil, plant and animal alike. A whole new ecosystem will rise from the death of just one being, and there are countless species that depend on that process to take place. Life can be greater and stronger after death takes place, like new trees after a forest fire or the fertilized soil after a volcanic eruption. Life and death walk hand in hand, one dependant on the other to exist.

Regrowth, in the end, is applied change. I think Thranduil is one of those people who channels the Discord around him and shapes it to his will, sometimes knowingly, sometimes not, but he does all the same. And I also think that his being is intimately related to the cycle of life and death and change, always change. He sees the importance of Melkor’s Song and Discord, he sees how life can't exist in the way it does without them, and he respects them for it. And despite the possibility of there being a better world in the future without these things, this is the world he chose to love.

For all those reasons, I also think he greatly dislikes the Blessed Realm and is, most of all, disappointed in the Valar. The Blessed Realm, also called the Undying Lands is an antithesis to what it proposes to be. A land without death is also a land without proper life. The immutable nature of Aman, a land where no being meets its end, where no leaf falls and no seasons change, ultimately stifles growth. It would be madenning to someone like Thranduil. A land with no contrast, with no joy and relief at the songs of springtime birds; a perfect land, where the trees don’t speak and the ground never shifts. It’s still, quiet, overwhelmingly so. It’s a type of absolute silence that actually feels dangerous, like a forest when a predator walks by.

Now, this isn't to say that Thranduil agrees with Melkor’s actions, on the contrary. I think that his love for life and its fundamental aspects make him abhor pretty much the entirety of the First Age. Death is extremely important, yes, but forcefully inflicting death also goes against the natural cycle of life. In this aspect, Melkor’s rage is the other side of the Valar's stillness' coin. He learned to appreciate the Songs for what they are and what they contribute, but he has little love for the ones that originated them.

In conclusion, when I say my Thranduil is a Melkorist, I mean that he has Melkor's Song as a driving force behind his values and that he respects Melkor for the essential aspects he contributed to life in Arda, not that he's out there doing human sacrifices lmao

[mimilind]

Thranduil's Shadow: Chapter 43

Art Source: Ancalagon the Black by AnatoFinnstark on DeviantArt

❈ ❦ ❈

Chapter 43: Ancalagon the Black ~The situation in the caves becomes grave when food is lacking. The war nears its end and the greatest dragon is released, but there is hope and light even in the darkest times.~

❈ ❦ ❈

Story Summary: Impulsive and young, Thranduil brings back Aerneth to Doriath as his wife, making his abusive father furious. Through the Ages their hasty marriage is shadowed by war and death, dragons and dark lords, betrayal and kinslayings. How can they ever find healing and love?

– Or, the Silmarillion from Thranduil’s perspective.

Pairing: Thranduil x Canon Wife

Rating: M

Tags: Drama, Romance, Angst with a happy ending, Young Thranduil, Complicated Relationship, Slow Burn, Worldbuilding, 1st Age, Dysfunctional Family, War, Dragons, Canonical Character Death, Married Life, Getting Back Together, Healing, Mutual Pining, Elf Culture & Customs, The Battles of Beleriand, Fandom Blind, Kinslaying, Mirror of Galadriel, Prophetic Visions, Hurt/Comfort, Canon Compliant.

Warnings: Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Minor Character Death, Loss of Parent(s), graphic injuries/blood

Links to the story:

AO3 version

FFN version

Wattpad version

[laneynoir]

So... this is a bit of an unusual, self-serving ask, but if you're at all interested in the idea, please go for it! XD

You know all those fanart drawings of child Legolas accidentally shooting Thranduil with an arrow? Well, in SotWK, Gelir is actually the one who teaches Legolas how to shoot. (And SotWK headcanon states Gelir is the greatest archer in the Woodland Realm. Like, he would have saved Helm's Deep from blowing up with his first shot. Bahaha.)

If you're in the mood, maybe a brother crack fic along those lines?

Thank you in advance, if you choose to go for it!

PS. Tauriel is Legolas's age in SotWK too, so you can throw child-her in there if you want.

Honestly @sotwk posting this with your oc's in it feels like going up to Tolkien and showing him my fanfic. ✨anyway✨

EDIT: forgot to mention, I've never tried to write in past tense, so thizs is EXTRA rocky 😅 sorry

Word count: 2968 (got a bit out if hand..)

Legolas let out a cry of joy before wrapping his mother in a hug that nearly knocked her off balance. "Thank you Ammë! Thank you thank you!"

Queen Maereth could do naught else but give her son a smile, for his grin was bright and cheerful as the sun above Greenwood's canopy. "You must always be on your best behavior, my Greenleaf, and the instant you are hurt the lessons will halt. Do you understand?"

His braid bobbed as he nodded his head. "Yes, of course!" Suddenly his face feel into a scowl. "And I have to find some way to convince Gelir to teach me, he is quite particular about how much time he spends with me."

"Gelir is particular about time spent with anyone, Legolas. He far prefer a the company of trees and woodland inhabitants to ourselves." The cool tones of the Elven king promoted a laugh from his beloved, a sound that never failed to bring joy to any around.

Legolas, however, was not amused. Throwing his hands up in the air he exclaimed, "Well that doesn't help me. I can hardly turn myself into a squirl or bird so he may teach me to shoot." A moment's pause, "besides, even if I could, it would be pointless. I could hardly draw a bow if I had paws or talons."

Though Legolas did not understand why his father laughed, he grinned all the same. He liked it when his father was happy. When his father was happy, Ammë was happy, and that usually meant everything was okay.

The young prince hopped to his feet from the spot on the floor to which he'd settled, and addressed his Royal parents in a lofty tone. "I would love to keep you both company, but I must be off. Plans do not shape themselves, and I will need a great one to convince Gelir." Gravely the young prince bowed before exiting the room, deap in thought.

It was a testament to the wills of both Thranduil and Maereth that their expressions remained stotic until Legolas had left.

In the end Legolas, having begged advice from all of his brothers, had landed on a simple plan to entice Gelir's good will; flattery and wide eyes.

Granted he landed on this plan after four failed attempts at others, including an incident with a candle and far to close an escape for the silver-blond of Gelir's lovely hair, had it been longer the escapade would have ended much differantly.

And so Legolas -much to the confusion of poor Gelir- doted upon him for near a week, before finally becomeing so antsy that he starts spending large amounts of time fliped on the grass. (Much to the displeasure of the maid tasked with scrubbing stains from the prince's tunic)

Throughout this period, Tauriel was merciless with both her teasing and no-nonsense advice. Having advised her friend to "just ask him" she set to annoying him into doing so.

Legolas did not appreciate this.

But yet not for nothing is Gelir still heralded as the greatest hunter of Greenwood The Great, and his eyes were sharp as the hawks whos company he kept.

Having become suspicious of his younger brother's attitude, he sharpened his focouse onto Legolas. Yet he found no fault nor prank that the wide eyed Mellon had played to promt his generous disposition.

When a week had passed, Gelir noted a significant change in Legolas' manner, gone was the constant bable and cheer.  And though he was lothe to say so, Gelir noted it's absence with sorrow.

Becoming worried, the fourth prince of the wood aproched his eldest brother with his concern- for although he cared deeply for Legolas, he did not wish to bring worry on Queen Mearath.

But Mirion was non-forthcoming, and told him only that Legolas was in perfect health, and his problem was somthing that only Gelir could help.

Resolving to confront his brother on the morrow, he retires to bed, troubled.

The next morning Legolas offered to serve him, as he had been for a time, and Gelir politly declined. Legolas mearly nodded with an air of resignation. After the meal Gelir pulls him to the side, "Legolas, brother, you have nor been yourself this past week, and I have been told that only I can help you, but I know not how."

Legolas fidgeted with his tunic hem before taking a gulp of air at looking up at hus brother, who had never seemed so tall before. "I..." He started, then spoke so quickly that Gelir could liken him to a squirl.

"Ammë said that since I've been doing so well with my lessons I could choose one weapon to start studying, and I really wantd to learn the bow, and everyone knows that you're the best bowman in the last eight-thousand years at least, but you dont like me very much so I tried to think of a plan to make you like me, except that didn't go very well and I nearly set your hair on fire, and Tauriel said I should just ask you, but it's easy for her to say things like that because everyone likes her and-"

"Cease youngling!"

Gelir's mind raced in the breath of silence that passed while Legolas looked down to his boots, an aura of defeat surounding him. Gelir tugged on the short braid behind his left ear, wishing -not for the first time- that he were better with people.

Animals were easy, they didn't stress him out so much as his fellow elves.

But now he was at a loss for what to do, and had to speak. Joy of joys.

As he was want, Gelir considered the situation from all angles, feeling a twinge of guilt that his brother had though he didn't like him. He thought over what Legolas had requested, and though he would never admit it, he felt a touch flattered that the youngest prince had chosen his weapon.

"Has mother suggested the bow for you Legolas?" He asked.

Said prince looked to him in shock. "No! I want to learn the bow, and you are the best." Sadly he looked to thw ground again. "Although, if you will not teach me, Ada says that one of the palace guards will. But they are not so skilled as you."

Gelir shook his head in wonderment, "I only asked, for our older brothers are more renowned for their battle prowess. Most would prefer their instruction come from those with more renowned weapons."

At this Legolas shot him a look that clearly conveyed how intelligent he found this remark. "That, is ridiculous. I think lady Gilith put it quite well when she was talking to her mellon: 'prince Gelir spends much time in the company of animals, indeed far more than with others of his own kind. But still he is quite brave -he must be to spend so much time alone in thise woods without protection- and is more skilled than the entirety of the guard! And quite attractive as well as elegant'."

Legolas said this all in a higher pitch than his usual tone, mocking the Elven lady. "Although," he resumed in his normal voice, "I don't think you're attractive. But they giggled for a while over your eyes. Tauriel says I'll understand someday, but I don't think I want to."

This tirade was rewarded with a laugh from Gelir, a beautiful sound, for he had inherited his mother's chime-like noise. "You chatter like a squirl, dear brother mine. Yes, I think I can clear I bit of time a day to instruct you. So long as you promise to stop being so quiet, waiting on me hand and foot. We get quite enough if that from the servants, no?"

Legolas may have heard the last sentance, but that is not likely. Already was he turning flips with shouts of excitement.

A smile subtle as a cats paw on stone was upon Gelir's face for the remainder of the day, much to the confusion -but pleasure- of his year mate, Darthol.

The next day dawned bright and crips, though not too soon for prince Legolas, who had arisen far before the sun had first peaked her golden glow through the treetops of Greenwood. (Although, it should be said that Ninniel, the prince's usual keeper, did not rise so early, as she had been given the day off to spend as she pleased.)

As soon as breakfast was served, Legolas was bouncing in anticipation, and though relived, Gelir did not think that any of the elves tasked with cleaning up after the meal would apriciate the table being fliped by an excited ellon, Prince or no.

"Legolas, why don't you invite lady Tauriel to come to your training today?"

Just like that, Legolas shit from his seat like the arrow he so wanted to fire, leaving his brothers chuckling in his wake.

When hours later (or so it seemed to the impatient elfling) they finally stood out on the shooting range, Legolas quivered with excitement, near combusting when Gelir handed him a small bow that fit perfectly in his hand.

"Tis the one I learned on, and still is in perfect condition." He said proudly. "And still more, it looks as if it were made for you! And you for it I should say, you're a bowself born little brother."

Legolas did not preen under the words, but only because Tauriel was watching, and ger earlier jab at him about acting like a peacock still stung. Instead he said, "Thank you for trusting me with it Gelir!"

Gelir shifted on his feet, "Right then, first thing I'll teach you is stance, but before that we must go over bow etiquette."

And so did he instruct the attentive blond, and by that did Tauriel benefit as well. Both learned how to store a bow, how properly to carry one, be it over long distantce or mearly a short journy. Also they were taught never to draw a bow without an arrow, Legolas' eyes widening when told that the beautiful weapon would shatter if mishandled.

When the oral instruction was completed, Gelir began showing Legolas the apropriate way to stand. "The stance is important to learn first, if you cannot line your body up for the shot, how can your arriw lone up with your target?"

At this legolas was confused. "But Gelir," he said from his position sideways to the target. "You don't always stand like this, ive watched you shoot for so many other angles, even upside down like a bat!"

Gelir inclines his head, accepting this. "Yes, Legolas, I do. But that is only bevause I spent many years shooting from the base stance, my body is trained to line up automatically for a shot, but only because of practice in a perfect stance."

Subdued, Legolas nodds. But then his eyes catch sight of Darthol comeing from the woods behind the targets. "Gelir, I think he needs you."

The elder makes a noise of recognition, "Yes I suppose so, Alherion is still ill, I fear he may have gotten worse."

"Oh dear!" Exclaimed Legolas. "Then you must talk to him, Alherion must not be in more pain than we can help." Gelir jerked his head in thanks, and telling both elves to stay, he ran to meet his friend halfway.

After a moment of silence Tauriel spoke. "Are you enjoying learning Legolas?"

He whiped his head in an agreeing motion. "Oh yes! And don't look at me so Tauriel, I enjoy learning when the subject is more interesting."

With a smile Tauriel consieds his point. "Your stance is already near mirrored to prince Gelir, though you musn't be upset when you aim is not perfect at first" she said sagely, "when I had my fist dagger lesson, I couldn't even get the grip right!"

This was altogether to patronizing for Legolas, who'd been evious of Tauriel's early weapon instruction for night on a year, and so a scowl covered his features. "Well that is because you are allthogether a silly Elleth, and my aim is true! I hit a attacking wolf with a stone!"

Insulted by the comment, Tauriel raised an eyebrow. "Didn't it turn out that the Wolf was a friend of his? Thats hardly an impressive feat. You couldn't hit the target is you tried."

"I could so!"

"Hmm, no. I dont think so"

"Well you think wrong then!"

Temper flared Tauriel lashed out, "then do it. I dare you, shoot the target! Then you'll see!"

Suddenly Legolas looked tentive, and not so confidant as he had previously been. "But Gelir said-"

"Hah! You scared."

This was too much for Legolas, and with a huff he takes up the proper position, snatches the arrow, and puts it to the string. It is at this point that he realized that Gelir had not got this far in his instruction, and Legolas was unsure of how properly to follow through.

But silly Tauriel was still watching, so he drew the string back (arrow on the entierly wrong side of the bow) and the arrow swung away from the front of bow. Suprised and startled by Tauriel's laugh, Legolas realised the string and the arrow flew far off target...

And into his brothers leg.

Gelir's knees buckled unded the shock of the pain, and he fell to the ground. Darthol jumped but was imeadiatly at at his yearmates side. Taking in the arrow, his eyes shot to the two young elves, both pale as sheets, though Tauriel looked worse with her crimson hair accenting the lack of blood in her face.

It did not take more than a second to understand what had happened, and Darthol launched into action. "Gelir, I'm going to pick you up, please try not to shout in my ear"

Lip between his teeth, the prince nods in understanding. A hissing sound so close to that of the snakes he was fond of escaped his mouth when he was lifted from the ground.

Darthol barks for Legolas and Tauriel to accompany him, and they both nearly tripped in their haste to comply.

The trip back to the palace was made in silence, Darthol's attention held soley by the task of holding his friend and not jarring the calf with the arrow stuck in it. The two young elves were to frightened to say anything.

The pandemonium that unsued when they reach the gates with a bloody price could be described as comical, but at when they made it to the halls of healing, everything became crisp and efficient.

Not long was the wait before Queen Maereth apeared, dress flowing behind her as she strode swiftly into the hall, walking past both Legolas and Tauriel without a word.

The ten minuets of waiting for his mother to reappear were the longest of Legolas' objectivly short life at that point, and he was in tears within the first five.

Tauriel took no notice, and would nit have teased him if she had. She was in shock, the only sound escaping her was a whispered "I've killed the prince."

Maereth closed the door behind her when she came out, leaving Darthol and the healers with Gelir. When her attention was drawn to the two children her facial expression softened.

Legolas had drawn his knees to his face as he sat huddled on the bench and his shoulders shook with quiet sobs. Maereth had raised enough sons to know that Legolas had been punished already for his follyand so she set to comforting him instead, as well as Tauriel, whom she'd taken under her wing as soon as the orphened child had been delivered to the kingdom.

She drew both into her arms, whispering words of comfort to poor Legolas who said noting but 'I'm so sorry' repeatedly.

When they were calmed, Maereth drew forth the story fighting a smile when Tauriel asked if the prince would live.

"Yes dear, Gelir's calf was only injured, and the arrow did not sink verry far. He will be entirely heald before the week is out." Tauriel wrapped her arms around the Queens neck, apologizing profusely.

Seeing how shaken the girl was, Maereth semr her to the kitchens to beg a cup of calming tea.

When Tauriel was gone, she turned her attention back to Legolas, "why still do you cry my son?"

Focousing his red rimmed eyes on his mother, he choked out; "Because now Gelir will hate me. He already did not like me and now I've shot him!" It took much time for her to console Legolas, and later when she reflected on this moment, she would shake her head a smile on her face.

As promised Gelir, a mear four days later, was creeping through the woods as silently and confidently as ever. And Legolas' instruction continued, the two youngest elves both having learned a lesson. For Legolas, he learned patience and the importance of following instruction, even when dared otherwise.

Tauriel, still had a fiery temper to match her locks, however she began seeking ways to better control it, and sought to be less crule in teasing Legolas.

Gelir, for his part, was reminded not to stand in the middle of a shooting range.

~

Many, many years later an orc falls dead, torch sputtering out in the water. Three arrows stick out of its corpse, two with green fletchs and one, sticking from its neck, with red.

From across the battle field, the red arrows owner calls, "Why did you not shoot his leg? Legolas?"

With an expression of long suffering, the still youngest elf prince sings an insult in his mother tounge to his brother, that causes Aragorn's eyebrows to shoot up.

[wareagleofthemountain]

I’m all the updates, tumblr didn’t make it so you could as as your different sideblogs… ANYWAY

Rate the elven realms on your favorite to least favorite and if you’re up for it, explain why

Hiii! Sure! In order (though it fluctuates)

Rivendell- because I’m still sick and could really use some TLC from Elrond. And some Glorfindel cuddles lol. And I’d also love to look at their waterfalls and beautiful sunsets.

Nargothrond- Finrod. Need I say more? 🩷

Lorien- Again, Haldir. Need I say more? 💙

Doriath- Because I wanna meet Queen Melian and see what Thranduil was like as a child.

Gondolin- Come on! It’s a hidden city filled with some of the greatest elves of all time!

Mirkwood- As much as I love the gang there, I’m scared of average sized house spiders so…

[swordoaths]

Thranduil Headcanons

I would like to spend some time talking about Thranduil’s timeline and experiences that inform his rule as King, others’ perception of him and his rule, and his relationship with Middle-earth and others beyond that of Elves. My interpretation of Thranduil for this blog is quite a mixture from the books, my own hcs, and the films, so it just might be nice to lay out the how and why to my interpretation of Thranduil. This shall be long.

We don’t have a hard and fast date for Thranduil’s birth, so I’ve just made it that he was born in FA 317, having thus come to age in Doriath. He would have been witness to the Second Kinslaying in mid-winter FA 506. I personally headcanon that his mother was not amongst the survivors, and Thranduil and Oropher were the only ones of their family to survive. With his home destroyed, Thranduil remains with his father, being amongst the Elves who chose to stay in Middle-earth. (Key point here to my rambling, as we shall soon see.) Oropher does also take a few surviving Sindar (of these few survivors, I headcanon that Thranduil’s future wife is amongst them) with him until they find settlement in Eryn Galen.

And during this time, one of the big things for Thranduil, I think, is that he sees his father’s grief--- sees the way his father assimilates with the Silvan Elves and culture as if the grief of being a Sinda and the memories of the ruin of Doriath are too great--- that it is perhaps less painful to reject Sindarin ways in favor of Silvan ways. This next quotation will show this desire of assimlation to Silvan ways, but I must stress that I take the usage of “they” to include Thranduil because he, too, is a Sinda who merged with the Silvan Elves:

“Oropher had come among [The Silvan Elves] with only a handful of Sindar, and they were soon merged with the Silvan Elves, adopting their language and taking the names of Silvan form and style. This they did deliberately; for they came from Doriath after its ruin and had no desire to leave Middle-earth, nor to be merged with the other Sindar of Beleriand, dominated by the Noldorin Exiles for whom the folk of Doriath had no great love. They wished indeed to become Silvan folk and to return, as they said, to the simple life natural to the Elves before the invitation of the Valar had disturbed it.” (The Unfinished Tales, Appendix B, The Sindarin Princes of the Silvan Elves).

And as Oropher and Thranduil continue to find their place in the Woodland Realm, hoping that after the horrors of losing home, there is this sense of impermanence. So, when Celeborn and Galadriel and the dwarves start getting too close to Oropher and his people and the life they wanted, Oropher is like, “Nope! Too Close for Comfort!” and takes his people further into the woods. But, and I must stress this, the decision to move further into the woods to put distance between other settlements was not entire isolation, for communication and relationships still continued. Oropher simply wanted a safe-place--- a place of protection-- for his people, especially after what happened to the Ruin of Doriath. Sound familiar? Perhaps like Thranduil? Keep in mind that Thranduil is learning from this leadership style and will emanate it.

“In the Second Age, their king Oropher had withdrawn northward beyond the Gladden Fields. This he did to be free from the power and encroachments of the Dwarves of Moria, which had grown to be the greatest of the mansions of the Dwarves recorded in history; and also he resented the intrusions of Celeborn and Galadriel into Lorien. But as yet there was still little to fear between the Greenwood and the Mountains and there was constant intercourse between his people and their kin across the river”  (The Unfinished Tales, Appendix B, The Sindarin Princes of the Silvan Elves).

Now, let’s fast forward a bit into the SA and the War of the Last Alliance. Oropher knows that there’s no way peace would come to Middle-earth whilst Sauron lived. And though it was in Silvan nature not to be involved in the affairs of others, Oropher knew that his folk would have to be part of the world, lest they lose it all to Sauron:

“Despite the desire of the Silvan Elves to meddle as little as might be in the affairs of the Noldor and Sindar, or of any other peoples, Dwarves, Men, or Orcs, Oropher had the wisdom to foresee that peace would not return unless Sauron was overcome” (The Unfinished Tales, Appendix B, The Sindarin Princes of the Silvan Elves). 

Knowing this, Oropher leads his army (Thranduil is also there fighting!) into battle, but Oropher led an early charge in the Battle of Dagorlad whereupon he and many of the army would be slain. After the war was over, Thranduil, who became King of his people in the midst of battle “led back home barely a third of the army that had marched to war”  (The Unfinished Tales, Appendix B, The Sindarin Princes of the Silvan Elves). So, not only does Thranduil lose his father in this fight; he also loses the majority of his army--- his kinfolk. 

And though the war had “ended” and it seemed that Sauron was slain, Thranduil wasn’t convinced. He was one of the few who believed that the Darkness would not end:

“But there was in Thranduil’s heart still a deeper shadow. He had seen the horror of Mordor and could not forget it. If ever he looked south its memory dimmed the light of the Sun, and though he knew that it was now broken and deserted under the vigilance of the Kings of Men. fear spoke in his heart that it was not conquered for ever: it would rise again.” (The Unfinished Tales, Appendix B, The Sindarin Princes of the Silvan Elves).

There are moments of happiness-- we know that Thranduil and his wife are together for some (undisclosed) time and that they have a son. And whilst we don’t know what really happens to Thranduil’s wife, we learn in The Hobbit films that was captured and slain by Gundabad Orcs. I do headcanon that it is the death of his wife that is the last straw-- that all the grief and loss he has suffered over thousands of years (as seen above) has now come to a tipping point. It is at this point that his grief is so great that it is passed to nature and the forest in Eryn Galen. Soon, the growth of the forest turned to decay.  And this is where I get the concept of Thranduil’s connection to nature, and this little quote I’m taking from his biography on here:  

“And it was said that all that Thranduil had lost manifested with every leaf that turned from green to brown. And though precious few would ever see it, there were rumors that his grief had been so great that it had manifested in a scarring upon his skin*, which he kept concealed. But more still, he would not speak of his loss.”

*I took this scarring bit from what we see in the films, but I’m just explaining its cause differently than what the films suggest.

Eventually, the grief and decay of the forest will become appealing to Darker forces, as we know from canon. Still, despite Thranduil’s grief and the darkness of the wood, the place is not entirely uninhabitable and that Thranduil is still very much seen as a great king by his people (and by others as we shall soon see).

In The Hobbit (book), Thranduil is described as “their greatest king” who created a “fortress of his people against their enemies”.  In The Unfinished Tales, it notes that “Thranduil established his realm in the north-east of the forest and delved there a fortress and great halls underground.” According to The Hobbit (book), his people “lived and hunted in the open woods, and had houses or huts on the ground and in the branches. The beeches were their favourite trees.” The fortress of the Woodland Realm is described as a “great cave, from which countless smaller ones opened out on every side, would far underground and had many passages and wide halls; but it was lighter and more wholesome than any goblin dwelling, and neither so deep nor so dangerous.” In other words, Thranduil kept and maintained a safe place for his people. The Elves were not trapped in the fortress; in fact, many lived outside. Nor were they surrounded by what the Elves in the film deem as an “ill-tempered” King. 

And here comes the main point of Thranduil’s rule. As King of the Woodland Realm, his first and primary duty will always be to his people, as any leader of any kingdom should maintain. But my diversion from the films comes here: Thranduil isn’t an Elf who doesn’t care about Middle-earth or any other race or civilization. Is he hesitant to jump headfirst and risk the lives of his people? Yes. Does his grief and losses in life make him strive to create a safe and protected place for his people, which can come across as isolationist? Yes. Can he come across as cold at times? Sure, and read this headcanon for more details. Will he entirely forsake Middle-earth and all other peoples and does he also not care about other peoples? Absolutely not. From the First Age, he chose to remain in Middle-earth, thereby showing his love for the world. He’s one of the very few who believes that Sauron will return and, as the book reveals, still goes to battle for Middle-earth and all who inhabit it numerous times (War of the Last Alliance, Battle of the Five Armies, War of the Ring).

With specific emphasis on the events of The Hobbit, Thranduil first hears about Smaug’s death via the birds (which I love so much btw).“The Elvenking had received news from his own messengers and from the birds that loved his folk, and already knew much of what happened” (The Hobbit). Upon this news, Thranduil originally was going to march to the Mountain. BUT! The moment he hears from Bard that his people are in need of help, Thranduil turns his entire focus to help the people of Lake-town. Why? Because Thranduil liked Bard and the people of Lake-town:

“But the king, when he received the prayers of Bard, had pity, for he was the lord of a good and kindly people; so turning his march, which had at first been direct towards the Mountain, he hastened now down the river to the Long Lake. He had not boats or rafts enough for his host, and they were forced to go slower by foot; but great store of goods he sent ahead by water.”  (The Hobbit)

And this feeling is mutual, for Bard also thinks well of Thranduil. When Thorin questions Bard on Thranduil, Bard explains that Thranduil is his friend who helped the people of Lake-town out of friendship, not out of any greed for the gems as the films suggest:

"‘The Elvenking is my friend, and he has succoured the people of the Lake in their need, though they had no claim but friendship on them,’" answered Bard.  (The Hobbit)

And when it comes to a fight between Dwarves, Elves, and Men, Thranduil is not inclined to war and fighting. He would rather come to an agreement in reconciliation, not violence. In fact, Bard is prepared for war, and Thranduil is not:

“’Fools!’ laughed Bard, ‘to come thus beneath the Mountain's arm! They do not understand war above ground, whatever they may know of battle in the mines. There are many of our archers and spearmen now hidden in the rocks upon their right flank. Dwarf-mail may be good, but they will soon be hard put to it. Let us set on them now from both sides, before they are fully rested!’

But the Elvenking said: ‘Long will I tarry, ere I begin this war for gold. The dwarves cannot press us, unless we will, or do anything that we cannot mark. Let us hope still for something that will bring reconciliation.’”  (The Hobbit)

And of course, when it finally comes down to it and the enemy is attacking the Mountain, it is Thranduil and the Elves who charge into battle first:

“The elves were the first to charge. Their hatred for the goblins is cold and bitter. Their spears and swords shone in the gloom with a gleam of chill flame, so deadly was the wrath of the hands that held them.” (The Hobbit)

To highlight others’ views on Thranduil, Bilbo preferred the company of Thranduil over the others and chose to stand by Thranduil, if this was to be the final stand of his own life:

“On all this Bilbo looked with misery. He had taken his stand on Ravenhill among the Elves-- partly because there was more chance of escape from that point, and partly (with the more Tookish part of his mind) because if he was going to be in a last desperate stand, he preferred on the whole to defend the Elvenking.”  (The Hobbit)

Now, in the aftermath of the battle, Thranduil continues to show his alliances as King of the Woodland Realm. We see this in the way Thranduil takes Orcrist and lies it upon Thorin’s tomb, symbolizing the peace and unification between dwarves and Elves. On the return journey, Thranduil names Bilbo “Elf-friend and Blessed”, which is very much a sign of Bilbo’s lifelong relationship with the Elves in general.

And so, all of this informs how I interpret Thranduil as Elvenking. His grief and loss does affect his ruling and makes him more predisposed to protect his people from other harms, which can come across as isolating at times. But his ruling is viewed as a good one, and his lands, despite sickness, still give protection to his people. His relationship with Middle-earth and other races is still there. He does not hate or forsake other people, if he can be of help, and his preference to be with his own people and live more simply in the Wood does not change the fact that he will still help others when he can. He will not launch headfirst into war, but he will fight if he needs to. 

(personals, please don’t reblog!)